


The Consequences of Ascension

by Black78



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV), Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Attempted fix it, Cute Teddy Lupin, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humour, I'm adding tags as we go because #spoilers, Master of Death Harry Potter, Merlin is a Little Shit, Minor Character Death, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, battles, but can you really predict that sort of thing with Harry around?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:29:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 113,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24272845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black78/pseuds/Black78
Summary: When Harry Potter defeats Lord Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts arcane magic combines with the Deathly Hallows to an unforeseen consequence. Trying to raise Teddy and deal with those consequences as best as possible while desperately wishing his Saving People Thing wasn't quite so strong, Harry grudgingly involves himself in another war when he hears the Great Prophecy and realises people are expecting children to save the world again. Dragging Merlin along with him, Harry tries to keep his godson safe while his unexpected interference throws the Fates into an unknown future. Can he keep everyone safe in the end?Started: 19/05/2020
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 179
Kudos: 412





	1. How it happened.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything and I have no idea what I'm doing. If you recognise it I don't own it. Not beta'd #livelifeontheedge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for strong language throughout.
> 
> Amazing art work by @eddieblackart on insta - go check his stuff out, he's amazing and open for commissions!

  
When Voldemort’s body hit the floor of the Great Hall it was with a quiet thump. That the end of four years of increasingly vicious guerrilla warfare and the reign of terror that had come 10 years before ended in such an unassuming way was almost – wrong. That the end to the man who had murdered so many, forced a society to its knees and decimated two generations came with so little pomp and circumstance, so little finality, was almost an insult. One spell. One hit. And a quiet thump. And he was gone, with little puffs of dust rising around where his cloak had hit the floor.

A breath of silence bloomed around them and billowed from the centre of the hall where Harry stood staring dumbly with another spell on his lips – his wand raised for a counterattack that hadn’t come. Inside, Harry was numb, completely numb and unbelieving of what he was seeing. Sure, they had tried to defeat Voldemort, and yes, they were fighting for freedom, but in his heart of hearts Harry had never truly believed that Voldemort could ever be fully killed, and certainly not by his hand. Yes, Harry had trained and learned all he could, and they had whittled away at his horcruxes, one by one chipping away at the Dark Lord’s ties to the mortal plane. But he had always known that Voldemort was better than him. After all, Dumbledore, for all his faults, had always been the only one that Voldemort had ever truly feared. That Harry - Harry whose entire life had been marked and shadowed by Voldemort - should be the one to defeat him had almost been laughable. And yet. And yet.. here they were. Dumbledore’s crazy fucking plan had succeeded through sheer, dumb luck.

He should be feeling something, he vaguely thought.

His head felt floaty.

Slowly every head in the hall turned from Voldemort’s body to Harry – Elder wand still raised – who was frozen in the centre with cracks spiderwebbing under his feet where the floor had blistered during the duel.

A choking laugh burst from McGonagall. Her hands clapped to her mouth as her eyes widened with hysteria, her hair dust streaked and almost completely released from its usual strict neatness. She choked another laugh as she took in Voldemort’s corpse – his _corpse_. And then the dam broke. Accidental magic and noise burst from everyone in the room completely hysterical at the end of the Dark Lord. A whirling storm of noise, dust, activity and magic swept through the room with Harry at its centre still frozen and numb.

Sunlight lanced through the smashed windows high up in the Hall and illuminated the glistening dust and magic in the air turning it golden. Patronus after patronus flew through the walls, leaving wisps of pure relief and joy behind them and sending the message across the country: The Dark Lord is dead. Harry Potter killed him. We’re safe. Over and over again the messages flew: He’s gone. We’re safe. Harry Potter killed him.

And as the magic reached a fever pitch with Harry in the centre still clutching the hallows, something began that hadn’t happened in centuries. Old magic, arcane magic from the land itself, seeped through the ancient stones of Hogwarts, and the ley lines that ran beneath, and settled around Harry like a quilt. Golden, heavy magic sunk into his skin filtering through his very soul until, very quietly, in the eye of the storm, Harry Potter flickered and disappeared.

He came to in a crystal cave. Bluish light danced off walls that were ceiling to floor encrusted with white gems where, if you squinted hard enough, flashes of faces and places and things winked through.

 _It’s a goblin’s wet dream_ Harry thought, more than a little foggily.

He felt warm and safe and strangely tingly. He brought a hand to his head to rub his eyes, groaning while the light from the crystals strobed merrily in his bleary sight and gave him a headache. He sat up fully and glanced around, desperately trying to work out how he got here. He shuffled a bit, the sound loud in the otherwise empty cave, and gradually leaned back against a smooth section in the wall.

 _Think, Potter. What do you last remember?_ He remembered, he remembered - the diadem and the fire – and Malfoy – and then, and then the Shrieking Shack and _Snape_ , oh Merlin, he didn’t want to think about that - too much to think about there – so then what? Dumbledore and his stupid fucking plan and the walk to the forest-

_‘quicker and easier than falling asleep’_

He flinched.

Taking a deep breath, he carried on forcing his mind to walk through it, though he didn’t want to - Voldemort and the clearing and Kings Cross, then coming back and Narcissa Malfoy of all people, and then Neville and the snake, Bellatrix and Molly, and him and Voldemort – it was always going to be just them in the end – and then – the quiet thud, madness and noise and him at the centre of it all numb and heavy and then – nothing. Here.

A failsafe? He wondered, maybe Voldemort decided he had to have the last laugh and if he ever died Harry would be transported here? But that made no sense. Where even was here? Harry was fairly sure that if he was ever spontaneously transported and kidnapped by Voldemort, it would be to somewhere far more similar to the Malfoy cellar than this crystal cave which even Harry, with his Dursley squashed sense of interior design, could tell was breath-taking. So that begged the question – how did he get here? And, more importantly, what was he supposed to do now?

A crack like a thunderbolt echoed through the cave and Harry hurriedly staggered to his feet, holding onto the cave wall behind him for support as he forced his exhausted body to move to face this new threat. Quick footsteps sounded as a young man came into view and stopped at the sight of Harry battered and leaning against the wall behind him but still defiant with his wand raised and a steely glint in his eye.

The man’s face cracked into a cheek-splitting grin and tears shone in his eyes as he stared at Harry.

 _Great_ , Harry thought, _it’s a nutter_.

Harry took in the man before him. He was clearly a wizard as a long, pale, wooden staff hovered behind him almost as though the man had let go of it without thought and it had just hung there waiting to be picked up again. Given this, Harry was slightly surprised by the blatantly muggle, oversized, blue sweater and tight jeans he wore. The muggle style didn’t suggest Death Eater, as Harry had first feared, and he relaxed minutely.

The man had curly black hair almost as messy as Harry’s, though slightly less gravity defying than his own bird’s nest, just covering large ears and some of the bluest eyes Harry had ever seen, including both Dumbledores, though he thought they had flashed golden for a second before he dismissed the thought. Once he had finished giving the man a once over, and noting the man had been doing the same to him, Harry decided the time had come for explanations.

“Who are you and where are we?”

The man closed his mouth and rocked back on his heels, raising his arm to the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture and eyeing Harry ruefully.

“You won’t believe me I’m afraid.” He responded, a slight welsh lilt on his tongue.

“Try me.” Harry tersely responded, raising his wand a little higher even as he leaned further against the wall for support.

“No, you really won’t. So just – before you curse me or whatever, remember I did warn you.” Harry shot him an unimpressed look. The man took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and faced Harry fully. The only thing stopping Harry from tensing further at the action was the fact that the man had yet to pull a wand on him. “I,” he continued, “am Merlin Emrys and you, Harry Potter, are in the Crystal Cave which some consider the heart of magic in Albion.” A beat.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, seriously, you are! I know it’s hard to believe and I know I don’t look all bearded wise man and that but we rea-“

“You’re a nutter! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Harry yelped in frustrated bewilderment. ‘Merlin’ took a step forward his hands raised in front of him as though approaching a spooked animal and Harry grounded his stance, gripping his wand more firmly and raising it to level at ‘Merlin’s’ chest –

“Not another step.” he warned.

‘Merlin’ hesitated before continuing in a low earnest tone, speaking fast as though to get the words out before Harry completely flipped.

“Harry you have to listen to me, can’t you feel the magic hanging in the air? It practically covers this cave – you know that’s not normal. Why would I lie about this? I’m here to help, I promise. A very old phenomenon has happened that hasn’t in centuries and I just want to help. Please. Just let me explain.” Harry paused, not lowering his wand an inch.

What Merlin said about the air was true, Harry realised, he had noticed it the moment he woke up how tingly and warm he felt in what should otherwise be a damp, cold cave. But the claim that this was the legendary Crystal Cave? That was- that was – _actually not that hard to believe_ , Harry realised. Afterall, weird shit happened around Harry all the time, why not this? Suddenly exhausted, Harry slumped. He refused to sit back on the floor, though he desperately wanted to, but he essentially was at this point given that practically all his weight was against the wall behind him.

Gesturing his wand tiredly Harry grunted, “Go on then, explain.”

‘Merlin’ seemed stunned. “Just like that?” He asked, wrongfooted.

“Sure,” Harry shrugged, “stranger things have happened in the last day and a half alone.” Harry’s mind briefly flashed to the dragon and Gringotts break in and consequent dramatic break _out._ “Why not this? You say you’re Merlin? Well alright then, why’re you talking to me?”

Merlin seemed delighted by Harry’s attitude and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘always knew I liked potters’ but carried on before harry could be sure – not that he particularly cared at this point.

“Why don’t we both sit down.” Merlin suggested, “You look dead on your feet and you’ve just been in a huge battle and had arcane magic shoved into you, really it’s a wonder you’re conscious.”

With that he flopped down into an ungainly heap, until he sat cross legged in front of Harry, his staff still floating behind as though held on an invisible string from the ceiling. Finally deciding Merlin wasn’t a threat, Harry scrubbed a hand over his face and slid down the wall until he was blessedly sitting again, his head resting against the wall as he observed Merlin with exhausted eyes.

“I really will let you get to sleep soon,” Merlin promised, “I just thought you should know what’s going on before you get back.” Harry started at the mention of leaving but quickly refocused on Merlin again.

“Harry, what do you know of the Old Religion and the creation of Gods?”

Harry stared blankly at him.

“Fair enough.” Merlin still seemed fairly cheerful despite Harry’s complete lack of understanding of what in the hell was going on. “The Old Religion was one of the earliest forms of magic practiced by humans in Albion.” He began, “Heavily based on the balance of the world it runs in currents through the earth through ley lines and touches and affects all living beings. It is an incredibly old and powerful form of magic, but it relies heavily on the balance of the Kingdom of Albion. The balance of life and death in particular. This Balance is particularly volatile now because of both the increase of life across the world but also the great destruction the growing population of humans are wreaking across the land.”

 _Oh great_ , Harry tiredly thought, _I’ve been kidnapped by a climate change activist_.

“Many centuries ago when Albion was still separated into kingdoms, a King named Uther ordered a great Purge against all magical beings, disregarding that all living beings are, in some way, inherently magical. The Great Dragons were hunted down until one remained imprisoned under the castle and sorcerers were murdered in their droves. With the mass exodus of magic from the land the Balance was disrupted, and the Old Religion did the only thing it could. It poured all of that magical energy from all those beings, all that ambient magic just swirling around with no one left to harness it, life itself was poured into one being – magic incarnate – and that being was me.”

Despite his tiredness, Harry was enthralled by the tale. Sitting there in that Crystal Cave, surrounded by the dancing lights and sparks of magic Harry could even now feel playing across his skin, with the man’s face illuminated by the bluish glow and his staff floating behind, Harry believed him. There was just something about him that Harry innately trusted. And Harry always listened to his gut. Even if he hadn’t, the man’s eyes glowed slightly golden and magic seemed to spark all around him, warping his silhouette into different colours. Everything, even to Harry’s exhaustion dulled senses, felt sharp and clean. The air itself felt living and the cave walls seemed to morph just in the corners of his eyes. This _was_ Merlin (and Harry felt like he should be having a bigger reaction to that little gem than he currently was but honestly he couldn't muster the energy). It wasn’t a hard reach from there that Merlin was Magic Incarnate. He could taste the magic on his tongue for god’s sake.

“You have to understand, Harry, the Old Religion is not a person and I do not speak for it, but it _is_ sentient. When Grindlewald took his war into Albion, the Balance wavered, but it fought back and stronger witches and wizards were born, more magic awoke in those it had otherwise lain dormant – I believe you call them muggleborns – and in time the Balance was righted again. But then Tom Riddle made his first horcrux, and then his second, and his third. He gathered his followers and tracked down those with newly awakened magic and murdered them, he systematically stamped out magic from Albion and with every move the Balance tipped further and further.” Merlin was becoming agitated and his hands gestured in front of him, sparks of light arcing off his fingertips as he spoke, before he calmed and regarded Harry seriously, eyes locked on his own so that Harry felt he was looking into his very soul.

“So, the Old Religion acted as it had done before. You were born as an Instrument of Fate and I was sent to restore the ley lines and protect the Pathways and Circles that allow safe passage of magic through the land. But on your way to righting the Balance, you picked up three items that did not belong here in Albion, tools of the Greek Thanatos that should never have been left on this plane.” At this a foreboding feeling began to settle in Harry’s gut as he felt his shoulders hunch with the guess of exactly which three items those might have been. A white-hot surge of rage and hurt lanced through him at the reminder of Dumbledore’s betrayal.

_– I open at the close –_

Merlin didn’t stop in his tale even as Harry shook himself from those thoughts, stamping down on them with a vicious thought of _later, I’ll think about that later_.

“You defeated the self-proclaimed Dark Lord, but you did it with tools from a foreign Pantheon, with arcane magic pulsing through you, recently having cut a mortal tie to the world from within your very soul and surrounded by wild magic and _belief_ from your fellow witches and wizards and well-“ Merlin spread his hands, “This is the result.”

There was a moment of silence. Harry broke it with a quiet, “I don’t understand.”

Merlin looked at him tiredly and, suddenly, he didn’t seem so young and full of life. He seemed weighted down by years and years and Harry had never felt so young looking into someone else’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry, but you’re like me.” Harry stared at Merlin with growing dread and resignation. “As of that moment you are part of magic, part of the land and, if I’m not mistaken, even tangentially part of the Greek Pantheon due to its presence at your ascension. Through the combination of all those things and most importantly the sheer _belief_ of your people in you, for all intents and purposes, you are a god.”

They sat there like that for some time. Harry and Merlin. With the bluish glow around them as Harry thought about that. The thing was. He did feel different. There was a connection that had never been there before between himself and the ground and, try as he might, he couldn’t ignore it. The magic felt more tangible around him – even Merlin’s aura felt like a physical presence. It surrounded him and blanketed the cave with little tendrils that probed around and playfully danced through the air, even as the rest of his magic seemed to spread through the cave – heavy with age but still light with wonder and curiosity.

When Harry had first focused on it in the silence that had fallen between them, as Harry desperately tried to convince himself to scoff at the claim, he had felt unbearably young and small in the face of it. Just a child hiding in a cupboard. But the more he thought about Merlin’s claim the more he realised that Merlin’s aura was not the only one in the room. His own spread out around him, tired and exhausted but crackling with determination. He also ruefully noticed that some tendrils appeared to explore the cave with as much glee as Merlin’s did. It appears that he had never quite gotten over that first sense of wonder he had had for magic when confronted with Diagon Alley beside his first friend when he was eleven - even in the face of all the destruction magic could do. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Wildly Harry wondered what Mad-Eye’s aura would have looked like. Probably some violent laser that pointed at everything, randomly checking it for threats. He mentally snorted and forced himself back to the problem at hand.

 _So,_ he mused, _a god huh? Seems a tad over dramatic but if what he says is true, frankly it’s a miracle I didn’t blow up with that much magical energy going through me from different places_. Hermione, sometime after the disastrous visit to the Department of Mysteries, had looked up prophecies and theories about Instruments of Fate. It had all seemed rather woolly then but there definitely had been a heavy amount of emphasis placed on the Power of Belief and how dangerous it was in horology and divination. Most sources agreed that too much belief and magical power generally did Bad Things when aimed at one person. It was one of the reasons why the Minister for Magic was elected by the people rather than being chosen from a determining magical artefact like the Goblet of Fire. The combination of unwavering belief and magical power was a rather volatile combination and another of the reasons why many people were shocked at the revival of the TriWizard Tournament and why it brought the winner quite so much prestige. Even more people agreed that ley lines were also Very Powerful and Should Not Be Touched for fear of Bad Things.

Harry groaned. _What the hell is wrong with me, I’m not a god why am I even listening to this_. A thought struck him.

“What does it mean to be, you know, um, a- a god?” Harry mumbled, increasingly sheepishly towards the end.

Merlin looked at him for a moment, before quietly admitting, with a sad smile, “Immortality for as long as the Belief holds and your ties to the land remain strong. Connection to the heart of Magic for she beats strongly within you.” And with that cryptic response he leaned back on his palms and stared at the ceiling. “In some ways,” he continued in a strange musing voice heavy with an emotion Harry couldn’t decipher, “I envy you. Your task has been completed and all that remains are the consequences. My task lives on still.”

Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “What is your task?”

Merlin was silent for so long Harry thought he wouldn’t reply. “The Once and Future King.” He finally said quietly. _Oh,_ Harry thought, _t_ _he tale of King Arthur, I should have known, even the muggles knew that one_.

Eventually, Harry breached the silence again. “How can you be sure, I mean, I suppose it’s possible that if someone channelled ley lines into a person some weird shit might go down, but Greek Pantheons? The Gods aren’t real!” Harry finished frustrated.

Merlin levelled a look at Harry, and he felt the strange urge to fidget. “Muggles don’t think witches and wizards are real Harry – who’s to say what is and isn’t the truth. And as for your other question, well, I felt it.” He said simply.

“You felt it.” Harry deadpanned.

“Harry, I’m intrinsically linked to the Balance, I think I’d notice an ascension, particularly one that happened over a ley line charged by wild magic and Belief.”

“But, but I’m not a god - I can’t be - what would I even do?!” Harry said rather desperately.

“Well I admit god is a slightly misleading term.” Merlin mused, “But it gets the point across best, I think. Quite simply when I say ‘ascension’ I mean that rather literally. You now operate on several planes of existence. Several of which are rather powerful and heavily influence the others in ways that previously you quite simply wouldn’t have been able to. Like the roots affect the rest of the tree and the branches affect the leaves. Where before you were a leaf, now you’re a root, a branch _and_ a leaf. You don’t have to do anything, you just _are_ , and you will continue to be.”

Harry had absolutely no idea what to do with that and briefly wondered if wizards over a certain age with blue eyes after a while just start to lose it and start speaking rubbish in cryptic riddles to teenagers just to fuck with them. As he had done all the other times weird shit happened and was inadequately explained via metaphor Harry just rolled with it and decided he’d deal with this later. Much later.

Seeming to think his point had been appropriately made and mistakenly assuming Harry had a grasp on the situation at last, Merlin rose and brushed the dust off his jeans. And wasn’t that a weird thought – The Great and Powerful Merlin in jeans. _Skinny_ jeans. But Harry had other problems right now, he shouldn’t be thinking about that. He took the hand offered by Merlin to scramble up and suddenly remembered how exhausted he had been before this whole weird conversation when he staggered a bit before straightening up.

“Follow me out of the cave before you apparate.” Merlin instructed cheerfully, “You should get home, people will probably be worried; I’m fairly sure you disappeared right after the fall of Tom Riddle.” Harry started at the reminder. _Holy hell, had that really happened? God, it was over, it really was over. He’d killed Voldemort. Voldemort who’d killed his parents, who’d tried to kill Harry practically every year since he’d re-joined the Wizarding World. Who’d tried to kill his friends, his family, ever since he’d returned. Who killed Cedric. But he was gone now. Actually dead. He’d seen the corpse for himself_. The realisation slammed into him just as forcefully as it had when it first happened.

Merlin regarded him seriously over his shoulder.

“Enjoy your victory and grieve your losses, Harry. Call me when you need me again about all of this, I don’t know how your godhood will take so it’ll mostly be up to you to navigate, but I’m here to help and, well-" here Merlin shot him a lopsided grin, “it’d be nice to have another friend.”

And with that they emerged out of the cave into a small copse of trees illuminated in the mid-morning sunlight. With one last wave Merlin turned and apparated away with a loud crack in the stillness of the trees. Harry shook himself out of the lingering bewilderment from the entire conversation and focused on the one thought that mattered now and turning on his heel he apparated away – _home_.


	2. How it was dealt with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still own nothing. Still have no idea what I'm doing. Would appreciate some handy hints though won't lie,

At first, Harry had written the entire conversation off as a product of the delirium of finally ending the war and had cheerfully gone on pretending absolutely nothing to do with Pantheons, or ley lines, or, gods forbid, fucking _belief_ magic had ever happened. However, as everyone around him aged and he very obviously _didn’t_ , Harry had been forced to revisit the idea of immortality.

The first two years had been the hardest.

Funeral after funeral had been held and soon enough ghosts started turning up at Hogwarts. When McGonagall had first come across the bewildered ghost of little Colin Creevey in the third corridor, she’d floo’d to Grimmauld Place and barricaded herself in a room for a week. She’d come out a different woman. Not as easy to smile – not that she had much recently – but Harry knew it wouldn’t change now. As she came face to face with the ghosts of child soldiers around the school it took its toll. It was a common problem. At first everyone had been too goddamn relieved to think about anything else. But too soon after, the relief faded and Wizarding Britain had to face what it had lost. Families torn apart. So many War Orphans a new Ministry department had to be opened to deal with them all. And the awful constant reminder that came with introducing Muggleborns to their world and having to explain again and again why it was broken and why they should stay despite it all.

In the days before the final battle, Harry had barely let himself imagine what life would be like after Voldemort – hope had been too much of a dangerous thing. But now he found himself completely unsure as to what to do. Drifting and drenched in grief he still bore the burden of being a symbol of hope. That is, until Andromeda was found dead in her room. The sudden deaths of her husband and only daughter had taken too much of her. Harry had immediately taken in little Teddy and desperately tried to work out how to care for a child while unable to ask Mrs Weasley for help as she mourned Fred.

Those first months were simultaneously the loneliest and the most crowded months Harry had ever experienced. Every time he left the house people would mob him and yet nobody actually _spoke_ – even his friends Ron and Hermione just existed, not really living. Quite often in those days, Harry thought about the words of the Prophecy - that 'neither could live while the other survived'. The distinction between the two had never been more evident and Trelawney's rasping voice haunted Harry's dreams, sharply punctuated by the cries of the child left orphaned by the same bloody war. The child of a man who had been like an Uncle to Harry. His last link to his own father.

But gradually, crawling, they moved on. The Ministry was rebuilt. Hogwarts reopened. Diagon Alley remade. Gringotts reroofed. St Mungos relocated. Soon enough two years had passed.

Ginny hadn’t wanted to raise a child that young, she loved Teddy, but that wasn’t what she wanted. Ginny played quidditch now. Harry thought that was fair enough.

He’d actually only noticed when Neville had joked one evening about how young Harry still looked despite being a father. Harry felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over his head. Because Neville was right. Harry did look young. Harry looked seventeen. Two years on, and Harry looked exactly as he had the day of the final battle. And Merlin’s words for the first time properly took root in his mind: “Immortality for as long as the Belief holds and your ties to the land remain strong”.

At the time he had blown it off. He had been jittery for all the rest of Neville’s visit, desperate to head to a mirror and reassure himself that something, anything, had changed. He hadn’t even had a haircut in all that time, and he hadn’t noticed. But he reassured himself that it was just his magic. Afterall hadn’t he once grown his hair back after Petunia cut it too short? It was fine, it was just his magic recognising that he didn’t want to go outside.

Three years after that and Harry still looked seventeen. People commented on it now, how young he still looked in the face of how quickly everyone else was growing up. Starting families and properly rebuilding the Ministry. Harry had relocated with Teddy to Shell Cottage after Bill and Fleur had had their first child and wanted to upsize. Grimmauld Place had had too many reminders anyway he told himself. He wasn’t running away. He wasn’t.

Teddy turned five and Harry couldn’t have been prouder. His own immortality crises aside, Teddy was the centre of his world and he took an almost indecent delight in documenting every milestone and moment in an album as Teddy grew up. He filled it with photos of Teddy as a baby, Teddy’s parents – every photo of Remus and Tonks Harry could find went in, and some of Harry and his friends too, to show just how many people loved him. They often went through the album together when Teddy was old enough to understand and Harry told a story for each picture Teddy asked, so that Teddy would never have to grow up like Harry did, not knowing who his parents were and that they loved him. Always, he told Teddy, your mummy and daddy loved you. So much. Too much.

But, a few weeks after Teddy’s fifth birthday, Harry caved. He called Kreacher, who was ancient now but just as malicious as ever, to watch over Teddy as he took a stroll along the beach by Shell Cottage. He trudged along the sea battling with himself whether he should do this. Eventually, he steeled himself. He needed to know if everything in the Crystal Cave had happened or not. He needed the truth. Since that evening with Neville more and more details about his conversation with Merlin had trickled back: how convincing it had all felt. His trust in what the other man had said. It all haunted him as he watched everyone around him grow and move on even as he lingered behind. Feeling rather foolish, Harry looked at the sky and tentatively cleared his throat.

“Merlin?” It came out a bit croaky. Harry cleared his throat and tried again a bit louder, taking comfort in the fact that no one was there for miles around to see him if he turned out to be crazy after all, shouting at the sky for a long dead wizard. “Merlin?” Harry waited. He huffed and stuffed his hands into his armpits, hunching his shoulders against the biting seaside wind.

“Stupid beardless wizard, ‘call me’ he says, call you how? On the bloody phone? Send an owl? Take out an ad in the Prophet?!” Harry grumbled as he faced out to the sea, terrified both that Merlin would turn up and that he wouldn’t, but squashing it down with manufactured irritation. If Merlin did turn up - well fuck - Harry’s immortal. If he didn’t, then something else was going on that was no less scary and Harry would have to figure it out on his own. He honestly wasn’t sure which was worse. God? Or freaky magical accident with bonus hallucination?

Sometimes he wondered if other people got themselves into these types of situations as much as he did. He’d like to think they did but something about his life in general rather suggested they didn’t. This was apparently a strictly Harry and Friends thing. Bloody _brilliant_. In fact, Neville had cheerfully announced to him, the last time they had met at the Hogs Head, that his life was significantly calmer and frankly less weird when Harry wasn’t around. Harry had taken offense and protested that weird things didn’t just happen around him. Neville had shaken his head resolutely and pointed to the hag in the corner wielding a flaming beaters bat against a vampire dressed alarmingly like a seventeenth century pirate whose ruffled shirt appeared to be burning bright pink and solemnly informed him that both of those in question were regulars and had never so much as spoken to each other before Harry had walked in the door and all hell had broken loose.

Harry had been less than impressed. He distracted himself now continuing to grouse about Neville’s hypothesis. At twenty-two Harry was rather proud of his grousing skills and he was putting them into great affect as he stared out at the crashing grey waves, still desperately trying to not think about the ramifications of the result of this.

A loud pop sounded behind him and Harry turned to see Merlin standing before him.

“Damn.” “Harry!” They said at the same time.

Merlin’s smile didn’t falter as Harry’s glare intensified while his heart skipped a beat inside and his lungs seemed to be freezing in on themselves. Fucking _fuck_. It actually happened. Unless –

“I don’t suppose this is a hallucination?” Harry asked in an offensively hopeful voice. Merlin turned an irritatingly knowing smile on him and he adjusted his long red scarf around his neck, adapting to the seaside chill.

“I’m afraid not.” He returned, “You called?”

Harry really had no choice but to stop avoiding the subject. He turned resolutely to Merlin.

“I haven’t aged a day in five years.”

“Yes.”

“You know why.”

“Yes. I told you last time we met, although, I do admit at the time I was more predicting than outright knowing. But it’s good to know I wasn’t completely off the mark.”

“No, dammit – you don’t get to be chipper about this. I’m not aging but everyone else is. My friends. My godson. They’re all aging! It’s fine now, we’re all young it doesn’t matter, but there’s going to come a point where I’m going to look younger than my son! Eventually I’ll outlive them and I won’t bury anyone else I love – I can't bury them all!” Harry was breathing heavily by the end, the words pouring out of him as every fear he’d had over the past five years, every terrifying pang he’d ruthlessly crushed as he documented his son’s life and noticed that while Teddy grew from picture to picture _he_ _didn’t,_ piled up between them and hung in the air - a festering heap of words and emotion.

Merlin eyes turned impossibly soft. “I know, Harry. I’m sorry.”

Harry sucked in deep breaths of salty air and turned back to the sea. In some ways, he guessed he’d already known. He wasn’t hugely surprised by the confirmation. Terrified? Yes. Bitter? God yes, far too bitter. But surprised? No, he really wasn’t. Five years was a long time after all to not think about something as the evidence taunted you in the face every day. Running his hands through his hair in defeat, he replied in a monotone, “So that’s it then. That’s that.”

They were silent a while until, so softly Harry almost didn’t hear it on the cusp of the breeze, “It doesn’t get easier.”

As the ramifications of that hit home Harry closed his eyes rather than face the other man. “How old are you?”

“Far, far too old. But then, so is magic. I get by.”

Harry made up his mind on the spot. “Come in for a cup of tea.”

And that was that. Problem noted. Problem ignored. And problem bitterly accepted. They would have tea, immortals the both of them, and Harry would enjoy every precious moment he could with his godson before he too would be buried by Harry’s hand. Tears pricked his eyes that he hadn’t shed since he’d walked to Voldemort in the forest surrounded by dead loved ones who told him to martyr himself. Who didn’t scream at him to turn back. Sirius who’d egged Harry on to his death – _quicker and easier than falling asleep_. And he’d listened. Seventeen and too tired by far, he’d walked to his death and only after realised that that was the true power of that particular Hallow. To steal faces and say what people needed to hear to run to death with their arms wide open. 'Bravery' Dumbledore had called it. 'Cruel' Harry had named it. The irony was not lost on Harry at the parallel as he walked back now accepting immortality and mourning his future where before he had mourned the past.

As they walked, a new warmth joined them and Harry turned to see a butterfly patronus fluttering along beside them. He smiled a humourless smile, a bitter thing that twisted his mouth and didn’t reach his eyes. At last, he acknowledged the weight he hadn’t known he’d already been carrying since that day in Grimmauld Place when Harry had first realised what had really happened to him.

But bloody hell if he wasn’t going to meet this problem head on with all the Gryffindor bravado and flair that Snape had loathed for years and bloody well deal with it. Alright then, Harry was immortal? So was Merlin, they could be apocalypse buddies. Harry would have to bury his son? Teddy’s life would be so fucking full, incredible and vibrant that Death would hardly bear to take him. The butterfly flit along beside him and as its wings beat, a wave of determination and grit lightened with wry humour came from it. And Harry knew in that moment, that here was a person that understood. A feeling of mischievousness he hadn’t felt since deciding that the only course of action when you wanted to eavesdrop on the some Slytherins was to polyjuice himself and Ron came upon him and he firmed his resolve into a cement block of sheer will. He turned to Merlin and smiled, his arm indicating Shell Cottage. With a flourish, he ducked an elaborate bow as they reached the gate.

“Welcome to Shell Cottage, Messer Merlin."

An hour later, Teddy was happily occupied with a transfigured dragon Merlin had produced from the saltshaker on the table.

“I hope that doesn’t stick like that; I liked that saltshaker.” Harry commented mildly.

Merlin waved a hand. “No, you didn’t, look this is much better – instead of salt if you shake it you get fire!”

“What!” Harry yelped half rising from his chair to go grab the offending toy from his godson.

“It’s perfectly harmless don’t worry, only a bluebell flame charm. I’m sure you use them here all the time. Now stop avoiding the subject; you’re terrible at misdirection.” Harry grudgingly sat back in his seat. “What have you learnt about your ascension so far?” Merlin questioned.

Sighing, Harry tilted his chair on its the back legs, a bad habit he really needed to stop doing around Teddy he reminded himself. “Not much to be perfectly honest.” He admitted. “The Hallows always return to me no matter what I do with them and, obviously, I don’t age. I suppose I’m a bit more sensitive to magic than normal and I certainly prefer being near the sea and forest than in town these days, but other than that I really couldn’t say.”

Merlin hummed and adjusted his scarf thoughtfully, so it draped more loosely around his neck. “Do you ever feel particularly strong urges to do things? Check something out that you otherwise wouldn’t have? Even little things like planting a particular flower or walking along the beach would be an example.” Merlin questioned.

Harry shook his head.

Merlin tilted his head in thought, a considering look upon his face. “Do you feel at all drawn to America?”

Harry raised his eyebrows in shock. “Actually, yes. I’ve been sort of idly considering moving us there for a while now. How on Earth did you know that?”

Merlin sipped his tea that same thoughtful look on his face as he considered his answer. “Do you remember when I first explained to you why you ascended?”

Harry nodded, though he had tried his best he could hardly forget the encounter.

“You remember that the Deathly Hallows originally belonged to the Greek god of Death, Thanatos, and I had thought your godhood might touch slightly onto the Greek Pantheon as a result?” Again, Harry slowly nodded though he rather felt like he knew where this was going now and wasn’t sure he liked it. “It appears, the Hallows had a far greater affect than we had previously thought. It could be that you are far more linked to that Pantheon than you are to the Old Religion here. I hadn’t considered it at first as your magic quite closely resembles mine and I’m very much a product of the Old Religion, but perhaps there’s a bit more to it than just magical signatures.” He tapped the rim of his mug for a second before apparently deciding something. “Do you know what a soul looks like Harry?” he asked sharply.

Stumped slightly, Harry cast his mind back and an image came back to him of Sirius by the lake, a dementor leaning over him and a white ball rising achingly slowly from frozen lips as Harry watched on helpless.

Shaking himself out of the memory, Harry said slowly, “I suppose. Once, a dementor got too close to my godfather and a little white ball came out from his mouth. It went back in after and he was fine but, if I had to guess, I’d probably say something a bit like that?”

Merlin looked surprised at the information and Harry was momentarily wrong-footed by the experience of talking to someone who didn’t immediately know everything that had happened to him already. Most of his friends had been there for at least half of it and the rest was fairly well publicised through the gossip chain at Hogwarts or Harry's interviews with the Quibbler from years ago trying to set the record straight. In a way it was rather comforting that The Great and Powerful Merlin (and no Harry still wasn't over that and rather suspected he never would be) hadn't stalked Harry's life. It felt rather freeing.

Merlin nodded and responded, “In essence yes what you saw was a soul. By your description that sounds like an exceedingly tired soul, still very much intact but completely exhausted. Had your godfather been exposed to dementors much before?”

Harry was again caught off guard and awkwardly responded, “He was, well, he - um - was wrongfully put in prison for twelve years before he escaped - but he was innocent!” Harry finished in a rush.

Merlin’s face twisted in sympathy. “Poor man.” he murmured. “And yes a small, silver ball is very much what a soul exhausted to that extent would look like. Gods however, and bear in mind it does change per Pantheon-”

“There’s more than one Pa-“ Harry interrupted but Merlin smoothly talked over him.

“Greek gods in particular have golden souls that instead of condensing within their bodies into a small mass not unlike a star, instead spread throughout their bodies and reside within them like a second layer under the skin. This both allows them to assume a divine image and to reform after being dealt a mortal blow.” Harry was fascinated.

“Reform?” he questioned, deciding to leave aside the issue of _more_ pantheons to a later date.

“Most beings powered in some form by belief magic exist in a rather intangible state. Afterall, you can’t kill an idea. Even if you stabbed the physical manifestation of a concept the concept would still exist because you did nothing to waver the original belief that led to the manifestation in the first place.”

Harry pondered that. He supposed it did make sense in a rather snooty, cigar smoking, polo neck wearing philosopher way.

Merlin continued explaining, "The Greek gods are interesting in that while very, very few outside of their own demigod children and monsters from their pantheon actually _believe_ in them, they are so firmly rooted in the basis of some Western belief systems that they linger on. Due to this rather unconventional nature of their existence, rather than being anchored to the land like the Old Religion is, they follow the Flame of the West which currently resides in the US.”

“Is that why you asked me about America?” Harry questioned as Merlin paused for a gulp of tea.

“Yes. I didn’t consider it before, but it might just be possible that due to the rather unusual disappearance of the soul parasite you had in you that night, your soul was rather more malleable in shape than it otherwise would have been. It’s conceivable that during your ascension your soul changed slightly due to that and the Greek influence, and either turned gold or expanded to fit under your skin similar to the Greeks. I’m not quite sure what that would make you, though.” He petered off.

“Make me?” Harry prodded.

“Well yes, I mean, you definitely aren’t full god as you don’t have a divine form, but just enough might have changed that your sort of halfway there.”

“Like a demigod?”

“Quite frankly, Harry, I have absolutely no idea what a demigod soul looks like and wouldn’t like to guess.”

“Why not?”

“Well one of Poseidon’s sons once gave birth to a horse. What on earth sort of soul shape leads to that?”

“That’s a rather valid point you make there.”

“Thank you, I thought so too.”

They lapsed into silence.

“So, Daddy’s a god?” A suspiciously innocent voice questioned from under the table making them both jump.

“Ah, um – well you see Ted –“ Harry floundered.

“Daddy, I think it would be nice if you met the other gods. They can tell you if you’re gold or not and then we can make friends with them.” Teddy reasoned with the firm resolve of clear logic so singular to children who Know They’re Right.

“Daddy don’t be silly.” Teddy delivered his final, devastating argument. Merlin snorted his tea. Harry winced at the thought of the international port key cost and having to deal with the goblins to sort that out.


	3. And what came next

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still own nothing.  
> I admit this ones a bit of a filler but I like getting to know the characters better as they exist within the bounds of this story and was having fun. We'll get to the plot in the next one, promise!  
> Also thanks for the ideas people have sent in. It makes me really think about the directions this can go, though I have a fairly firm idea of how this is all gonna work out. I'm flexible though - got an idea? Send it in! you probably have your shit together more than I do and I respect that.

A week later Merlin was back for tea and Teddy hadn’t shut up about the gold. Harry had done a lot of thinking in that time and sitting there in the grey wooden chair staring out the diamond windowpanes to the dreary grey sky beyond Shell Cottage, he finally posed the question that had been bothering him all week.

“If a soul is intrinsically a person why is it so easy to change them, surely it should be a bit harder than it seems to be?”

Merlin looked at Harry weirdly before responding slowly as though talking to a particularly dense child. “Harry, it isn’t easy to change a soul. You’ve encountered practically the only two ways there are to do it other than deliberately splitting the soul or wearing it down with exhaustion. That both of those changes happened to you and the other two ways to people you know is so unlikely I’m still trying to figure it out.”

 _Point One to Neville on the Harry is Weird argument_ Harry internally groaned.

Teddy kicked his shin. “Daddy, ask about the gold.”

“Teddy don’t kick.”

“Sorry Daddy, but you’re not asking about the gold.”

“Teddy wants to know about the gold.”

Merlin seemed far too amused for Harry’s liking but turned gravely to Teddy, folding his hands on the table in front of him while fixing Teddy with a stern look and doing a rather scarily good impression of Professor Tofty from Harry’s OWLs. Harry wondered if they’d ever met each other. _Probably_ , he thought, _they’re both definitely old enough to have run into each other at some point._

“And what would you like to know about the gold, Master Lupin.”

Teddy giggled. “Why doesn’t Daddy go an’ find out if he is or not?”

Merlin side eyed Harry. “You know, you could.”

“What rock up to America, blue haired terror in tow, and scream at the sky ‘Hello? My son wants to know if I’m gold or not and I can’t deny I’m rather curious myself?”

Merlin snorted at the description.

“No need to the scream at the sky, not everyone’s got quite as much flair as I do, I’m afraid. You’d just have to go to the 600th floor of the Empire State Building.”

“I didn’t know it had 600 floors.”

“Well not on this plane it doesn’t.”

Harry sighed. They’d been having a good long run there without cryptical nonsense creeping back into the conversation.

“What good would it even do to know whether my soul’s gold or not?”

Merlin seemed to realise that he didn’t really want an answer to that as Harry got up to refill the kettle from the sink by the window. He looked up from where the water was filling and stared out at the crashing waves. He was grateful in many ways that they lived so close to the sea now. The sound lulled him to sleep most nights after he inevitably woke from nightmares that he still hadn’t been able to shake.

The ceaseless crash of water against pebbles constantly reassured him he wasn’t locked into Privet Drive anymore.

Teddy just liked chasing the white horses. Harry preferred Teddy’s reason.

Looking at the grey light filtering through the glass Harry felt tired in a way he hadn’t since the end of the war, since he’d fully accepted his role as Teddy’s dad. And he realised why he was so uncurious as to the colour of his soul. Harry was big enough to admit that normally he was a nosy bugger on his best days and his apparent apathy on the subject was very unlike him. But gold or not, crazy immortality, cryptic wizards and non-existent 600th floors aside, the truth was Harry would always first and foremost be Teddy’s dad.

He looked at the small boy playing by the table and ruefully eyed the saltshaker that was once again a dragon. He took in his blue hair, Teddy had inherited his mother’s ability and loved to play with it; his squishy maroon jumper received from Mrs Weasley this last Christmas and one of her first knits in five years, it appeared Teddy had inherited his father’s love of cable knit sweaters; and his green eyes, Teddy’s tribute to Harry. The last one never failed to remind Harry how lucky he was to have Teddy in his life and brought him back to one of the most defining moments he had experienced.

Since Teddy had been old enough to speak and proudly proclaimed Harry as ‘da!” Harry had been dreading explaining to Teddy where his mummy and daddy were. Somehow he would have to convey to the young boy that he wasn’t a replacement, but he would try his best to look after him anyway and loved him fiercely.

Harry had been a nervous wreck leading up to the conversation, considering he had exactly _no_ reference for what a good way to go about this was, other than to not do what the Dursleys had done.

He’d called all his friends that he knew had grown up without family for advice and had probably been his most socially active since the war in the weeks leading up to it, in a desperate attempt to find advice and _get it right_. But Teddy had completely blown him away when, having considered what Harry said for a long time, very quietly, he had asked in a hesitant voice, “Why can’t I have two daddy’s and a mummy though?”

Harry had frozen staring at Teddy over the photo album he’d used at the recommendation of Susan Bones to try and explain in the most comforting way possible who the people were and what they meant.

“What?”

“Well I heard Victoire called Uncle Bill 'papa' an' why can’t one of you be 'papa' an' one of you can be 'daddy' an' then I can have both.”

Harry had sat there in shock before very gently pulling Teddy into his lap and, kissing his head, replied almost reverently, “Yeah, you can have both, Ted. You can have all of us. We love you so much.”

Teddy wiggled on his lap worming his way into Harry’s embrace further. “Love you, daddy.”

Harry came back to the present with a start when the saltshaker moonlighting as a dragon let out a squeaky roar and sneezed blue flame. Finally, he turned to face Merlin asking what he’d really wanted to know.

“If it is gold will that be a problem for Teddy?”

Merlin hunched in on himself slightly and fiddled with his tea mug. A more contrasting sight from the impressive aura he had emanated in the cave couldn’t be found. He still had the aged eyes. His silhouette flowed different colours, and things shifted ever so slightly out the corner of Harry’s eye when he wasn’t looking. But in this moment, when Harry looked at the man sitting at his kitchen table, surrounded by the pale blue cabinets and white cottage walls, bundled in his red scarf and fiddling with his cuffs, Harry was forcibly reminded that Merlin was just a person too. Magic Incarnate but a person all the same. And Harry couldn’t rely on him for all the answers.

“I don’t know.” Was the eventual reply. “There could be consequences depending on certain things but, Harry, I’m sorry, but I really don’t know.”

Harry nodded. He’d thought that might be the case.

“Would it be better to just avoid the problem until Teddy’s older and we can deal with it then?” Harry asked hopefully, very supportive of anything that held a possible threat to Teddy firmly at arm’s length until further notice. Merlin floundered a bit.

“Again, Harry, I’m really sorry, but I don’t know. That could work out completely fine and nothing will go wrong – after all you’ve managed five years so far. But again, I really don’t know enough about this.” 

Harry nodded and refilled Merlin’s cup.

“That’s fine, don’t worry, you’ve been very helpful so far and I’m grateful for what you’ve told me.”

Merlin sagged in relief and Harry wondered briefly how often people thanked Merlin for his information and help or if most people just expected it from him considering who he was and blamed him when he couldn't. It was a rather sad thought and prompted Harry to wonder a bit more about what the Prince of Enchanters actually did with his time.

“Merlin, do you have a job?”

The other man seemed rather surprised by the non sequitur but rallied quickly and quirked a smile at Harry over the rim of his mug.

“Well, during the war I had to see to the ley lines and such and as that was rather time consuming I had to quit my teaching job. These days I sort of potter about doing little jobs here and there.”

“Teaching job?”

“Oh yes, I used to teach History in a school in Cardiff.”

“To muggle kids?”

He nodded enthusiastically looking remarkably like a puppy as he did so. “It was quite tiring but good fun all the same, I’ll miss that school, some of the children were delightful. Entirely too convinced that Merlin had a beard and a talking owl, but charming all the same.”

“Huh.” Harry lent back in his chair. It was a bit surprising, but it did fit with the very limited impression Harry had got of Merlin so far. He seemed to genuinely enjoy talking to Teddy and didn’t treat him with the sort of condescension that had so irritated Harry as a child when adults spoke to him. It was one of the reasons Harry was so open to welcoming Merlin into his home. “Why history?” He questioned further.

“There’s nothing quite so irritating as a wrong textbook, so I like to instil in them a healthy sense of scepticism for cobbled accounts of the past before they get too reliant on books.” Merlin replied cheerfully.

“Why don’t you just write to the textbooks and get them corrected?”

“Oh, very good Harry, yes I’ll just call them up and say hello? Yes, I’m afraid you’re very wrong on page 20, oh how do I know? Well, you fool, I’m well over five hundred and was actually there. Do I have any other sources? No, I’m afraid I don’t you’ll have to take my word for it. Yes, thank you have a nice day.”

Harry scowled at Merlin’s antics and huffed over his tea as Teddy giggled, delighted that someone else was making fun of Harry.

“Well, alright no need to get snitty, I was just asking.”

Merlin’s face softened and he smiled at Harry, ducking his head slightly, “I know. Thank you. It was a good point and I’ve often thought of doing exactly that.” He chuckled. “What about you? Is mother-henning a full-time occupation or do you have other exploits to fill your time here?”

“I don’t mother hen.”

“Harry, the moment I came in you gave me a blanket, sat me at the kitchen table and handed me a scone and a cup of tea that you’ve since refilled three times. You kind of do.”

Harry blushed realising that was _exactly_ what he’d done. He was just so used to doing the same for Teddy he didn’t even consider that his guest wasn’t a five year old child who’d spent too long trying to call for mermaids on the beach but rather an ancient warlock who was perfectly capable of a warming charm if he got cold and very much didn’t need a blanket. Harry dismissed that idea. Warming charms were _not_ the same as blankets. And Luna had agreed with him on that one the last time Ron had made exactly the same complaint when Harry had wrapped him in a blanket despite his spluttering protests that he didn’t need to be _swaddled_ thank you very much.

“It’s fine, I’ve been told I do the same thing.” Merlin reassured; the effect slightly lessened by his eyes still dancing with amusement.

“Oh? By who?”

“King Henry the Eighth.” Merlin smiled cheekily. Harry was rather put out that he couldn’t immediately dismiss that claim. Damn. Merlin could claim anything, and Harry really could never be sure if he was just messing or not. It made him rather disgruntled.

Several mugs of tea later and a broken chair after Teddy decided to re-enact Harry’s break out from Gringotts with his toy dragon, Merlin and Harry circled back to the original problem.

“Do you think I should go to America and find out?”

Merlin pondered that a while his chin rested on his palm as he pulled one knee to his chest, completely relaxed in Harry’s kitchen. One hand idly fiddled with his mug, absently turning it different colour with every tap.

Eventually he answered, “I think there’s pros and cons to both.” He looked up at Harry. “At some point you _will_ have to go for answers and things may go worse if they know you waited deliberately. But there might be consequences you don’t want to deal with now if you do go.”

“You keep mentioning these consequences, what do you mean?”

“Well, they might accept you fully into their pantheon, and then they’d have to name you a domain. But I’m not really sure how either of those things would affect your life. I’m not all that close with anyone in that Pantheon considering that I normally stick to Albion and they’re quite a way away. Although, they were in London for a while and we cohabited rather well.”

“When you say domain, you mean like how Artemis is Goddess of the Hunt and Moon?”

“Yeah exactly that. Yours would probably be much smaller though considering how weak your claim is.”

“What like god of unlikely soul altering events?”

“Well no, but something suitably specific like that would probably be the most likely.”

“If someone makes me a god of orphans I’ll scream.” Harry deadpanned.

Merlin quirked a brow in amusement and dryly responded, “They’ve already got one, don’t worry, you’re safe.”

“Thank Merlin for small mercies.”

Merlin outright laughed at that. And smothering it rather unsuccessfully, thanked him for his gratitude before eventually taking his leave and leaving behind a thoroughly undecided Harry.

He posed the question to Teddy that night, interested in what he might think as Harry tucked him in in his cosy bedroom.

The stars winked merrily behind them that Harry had charmed to follow the waning of the moon after both of them had painted them on the ceiling through a combined effort of Harry holding Teddy up while the three year old happily threw the paintbrush covered in white at the dark blue ceiling. Harry had been quite impressed at Teddy's innovative methods.

The stars had been Harry’s tribute to Lupin as a reminder of his nights in the forest with his friends, but without an actual effigy of the moon considering the form Lupin’s boggart had taken and thinking such an addition to be just slightly too on the nose.

Teddy scrunched up his nose in thought.

“Daddy, if you go an’ it’s not bad then it’s fine. Bu- but then if you go an’ it is bad then just fix it!” Teddy plucked at his blanket. “If we go later, maybe it’ll be too bad.”

Harry rocked back on his heels. Teddy did have a point. He kissed Teddy goodnight before reading him a story and eventually walked back downstairs deep in thought.

How many times had they waited and been cautious only for things to get worse as they left them? Ginny and the diary came to mind. His occlumency lessons with Snape also flashed before his eyes before his thoughts turned to that endless camping trip with Ron and Hermione doing _nothing_ as people were rounded up and sent to Azkaban by hags like Umbridge. A problem left to fester because they’d waited.

Harry clenched his fist on the table at the thought, the scar on the back of his hand glaring white in the moonlight reflected off the water outside the window that softly filtered through the glass illuminating a silvery square in the otherwise shadowed room.

But Harry could also see the importance of caution.

Dumbledore’s withered hand hidden behind a silk sleeve and platitudes floated in his mind’s eye and proved that to him. He sighed. He had to go, didn’t he? He’d said he’d meet this problem head on, and he would. No sense in running now only to delay the inevitable. When Merlin next came, they would plan to go to America.

 _Teddy would be happy_ , Harry chuckled, _he can finally take a portkey. He's been whining about that since he first found out about them._

The goblins had not been willing to help.

Harry had had to ask Bill to collect the cash he needed for the international portkey for him. When he’d asked about it, Harry had just replied that he felt he and Teddy needed a break. Bill had nodded and clasped Harry on the shoulder telling him to take all the time he needed and to come back when they were ready. Harry wondered if Bill knew he had been lying and was trying to tell him it was okay. His insides squirmed at the thought. He knew his friends were worried about how unsociable he had become. He just couldn’t face their confusion at his youthful face when he knew the real reason. He knew he had to do something about that – research aging potions maybe? It was something to think about anyway. He refused to cut himself off from his only family because he was scared about the future.

When Merlin returned the next week and had been firmly steered into the chair that was rapidly becoming ‘Merlin’s Chair’ in Harry’s small kitchen, it was with slight bewilderment at the firm announcement that Harry and Teddy were going to America and Merlin was coming with them. Merlin gaped at Harry over the hot chocolate that had been firmly deposited in his hands and told to blow on it before he drank it, or he’d burn his mouth.

“Why do you want me to come?” He finally got out in baffled confusion.

“Because you know what’s going on, you’re a friend, and I might need a babysitter for Ted.” Harry replied. “Ron and Hermione are busy, Neville’s working and, though I love her, I’m not entirely sure I trust Luna with a child. You’re coming.”

“I- Harry – that’s very sweet of you- but I don’t really, I mean – I usually stay within Albion and the ley lines of the Old Religion.”

“Do you need to?”

“Well no I guess not as long as there’s a link to it around I’m sure I’d be fine, but I just haven’t gone anywhere _nearly_ as far as that before-“

“I’m a product of the Old Religion, have ties to the land and me and Teddy are both British. You’ll be fine if you stick with us.” Harry cut him off triumphantly.

Merlin wilted before snarking, “You’re getting more Greek by the minute.”

Harry put his mug down forcefully. “That was a low blow and you know it.”

Merlin apologised in a low voice and slightly shamefacedly returned to his hot chocolate.

Harry sighed wistfully, “I wish people would stop putting left over _bits_ of themselves in me.” Merlin chuckled weakly at the slightly grotesque imagery that that conjured, but the awkward air that had settled between them from Merlin’s comment cleared.

“When do you want to go?” he asked.

“Well, when are you free?”

“So soon? Why the sudden rush?” Merlin queried, surprised at Harry’s sudden decision considering how unsure he had seemed the week before. He readjusted the red scarf he was wearing again as it fell off during Harry’s explanation of his reasons, nodding slowly as the shorter man spoke. “You make a solid argument I suppose, and, if you really need me of course I’ll come with you, though I’m not entirely convinced _why_ you want me along.”

Harry gave him a long look. “Merlin, I haven’t known you long, but you’re a friend and I really seriously think I’ll need the moral support from someone who has more than the faintest idea of what’s happening.”

A warm glow started to spread in Merlin’s chest at the thought Harry considered him a friend. That someone who knew who and _what_ Merlin was wanted him along for him and not just his magic. He hastily chastised himself at the assumption and scrambled to convince himself the persisting warm glow was just the hot chocolate.

_Don’t get ahead of yourself, Merlin._

After, gulping a long draught of hot chocolate before he could embarrass himself beaming like an idiot, Merlin responded.

“Thank you, Harry. I’d be delighted to provide your shoulder to cry on.”

Harry sniffed haughtily and responded in his best fourteen-year-old Draco Malfoy impression, “I hope it’s comfortable, I don’t cry on bony shoulders you know.”

“I’ll dig out my shoulder pads just for you.” Merlin simpered in a startlingly good impression, though he didn’t know it, of Pansy Parkinson. Harry did, however, and barked a laugh before sobering again.

“We can get rooms in a muggle hotel. I have a portkey there and back that just needs the date and time set, but we don’t know how long this’ll take and it’s probably best if we try and avoid attention while we’re there.” Merlin agreed with that and they set about planning the details of their journey and asking Teddy if he had anywhere he’d particularly like to go.

Two days later everything was set for the portkey to whisk them away. Teddy clung to his father’s neck with Harry holding him close to his side as all three of them gathered around the kitchen table with one hand touching the blue plastic hairbrush set to take them to New York.


	4. What Zeus had to say about that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still own nothing and also post once again betaless.

Finally, they arrived at the Empire State Building.

It had taken a while at first for Merlin to centre himself to the ground without his innate connections to the ley lines to balance him. When they’d first arrived, he’d gone sheet white before collapsing in on himself, his hands around his stomach as he held himself up on shaky legs.

“There’s no Circles – _fuck_ but do they have magic. Avalon in a handbasket why’s it so _heavy?_ ” He gasped.

Harry had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Teddy was scandalised Merlin had said a bad word. Eventually, Merlin pulled himself together, though he still seemed slightly clammy and didn’t pulse with the same energy Harry had become accustomed to seeing flickering around his friend. He was actually shocked how noticeable it was now that it had gone.

Merlin explained that he had pulled most of his magic within himself rather than allow it to stretch out and search the ground as he was used to in Albion. He likened the loss to finding yourself unexpectedly roller-skating where before you were walking. Manageable, but required far greater focus. Harry rolled his eyes at the inevitable metaphor he’d felt coming from the moment Teddy had innocently questioned what was wrong, hoping to hear another naughty word he wasn’t supposed to know.

They’d argued for a long time about leaving Teddy behind with Merlin while Harry went to confront an entire Pantheon and piss them off. Harry didn’t actively intend to do that last bit, but it’s how these sorts of situations tended to go with him involved. He was slightly heartened to know that a similar thing tended to happen to Merlin. _Take that Neville. Maybe it was just a black-haired people thing? Maybe he should consider going ginger? Ron’d get a kick from that_ , Harry thought distractedly as they approached the door.

But ultimately the need for Merlin to perhaps intervene in the proceedings outweighed his usefulness as a babysitter. Harry wasn't happy about it but Merlin had seemed very pleased at his two options and said it was a while since he’d had such a nice set of choices to pick from. Harry was concerned at how low Merlin’s bar was for good options since the one he’d chosen was to potentially go against an entire council of gods to defend a man he’d known for a few weeks. He shook the thought off as he adjusted Teddy’s grip around his neck and shifted him slightly on his hip.

“Six hundredth floor, please.” Merlin politely requested the man at the desk.

“There is no six hundredth floor.” Came the tired reply.

Harry shot a confused look at Merlin, but he seemed unconcerned and tried again in an even voice. “Yes, there is. You know about it and we know about it. My friend needs to speak to the council. Now please let us through.”

The desk man threw down his pen in frustration. “Look, mister, you can’t just waltz in and chat to the council when you feel like it.”

“They’ll want to talk to us, trust me. My friend has Ascended.”

The door man snorted unimpressed. “Yeah and I’m Merlin.”

Merlin grinned a shit-eating grin. “Actually, I think you’ll find _I_ am. Now, as a representative to the Old Religion, I’m requesting passage to the Council and you will give it to me and my guests.” As he spoke his aura flared in a way Harry hadn’t seen so obviously since that first meeting in the cave. Merlin’s eyes glowed golden and his staff appeared in his hand. The air around it seemed to shimmer like a heat wave and the floor under his feet cracked slightly as little green shoots snuck through and bloomed into tiny blue flowers.

The door man’s eye’s widened and he fumbled for the key card before thrusting it at Merlin and a thoroughly amused Harry with a wide-eyed Teddy.

“Thank you.” Merlin returned primly, his welsh lilt wavering with supressed laughter.

“Enjoying yourself, Emrys?” Harry commented mildly as they strolled into the lift.

“He took my name in vain, what was I supposed to do?” Merlin rolled his eyes at Harry and shoved the key card into the slot and hit the big red 600 button that had appeared with a smug flourish. The lift shot up and Teddy stared, fascinated as the floor numbers flashed past. Finally, the doors slid open with a ding and Harry, Teddy and Merlin stepped out onto the slightly misty path in front of them.

“Welcome, Harry Potter and Teddy Lupin, to Olympus.” Merlin said from beside him.

As they walked up the path through Olympus it flickered and glimmered under their feet between golden and gleaming, and marble and worn down through centuries of people walking over it. Mist curled languidly around the surface and snatched at their ankles. Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to liken it more to the Yellow Brick road from Oz or the Lonely, Winding Road at Twilight from the Beedle the Bard tale. Harry stared around with a mix of curiosity and trepidation remarkably similar to his first excursion to the Ministry of Magic.

There was so much to see in every direction. The air shimmered around them, sometimes spontaneously sparking with little silver pin pricks of light that darted off like sparks of electricity here and there, occasionally splashing against the vast temple walls that seemed to be everywhere. The amount of marble in the first hundred yards alone was staggering and Harry felt slightly as though he was being crowded on all sides by very haughty Gringotts banks. Given his particular history with that building and its Horde, the overall impression wasn’t entirely comforting.

There were also the stares. Harry was used to staring crowds having spent the majority of his teenage years in Hogwarts being alternately ostracised and worshipped. He was amused by the familiar mix of curiosity and disdain coming from the residents of Olympus. What was more unsettling to Harry was the small huddles of people arguing and speaking in impassioned whispers in the shadowed corners of the imposing temple walls looming over them.

Tilting his head curiously to Merlin he asked out of the corner of his mouth, “What’s with the little war councils everywhere?”

“Exactly that, I think.” Came the muttered reply. “I’ve heard whispers from Herne but I didn’t know it had gotten this bad. Maybe we shouldn’t have come.”

“What?!” Harry hissed.

“We can’t leave now, we’ve entered and have to present ourselves to the council so we’re stuck, but we should be fine. It would be worse than just little huddles everywhere if things had really gotten out of hand. I don’t think they’re divided, just nervous.”

Harry was slightly mollified by this but stayed on alert, holding Teddy tightly to his body, hand ready at any moment to summon his wand from his holster – either one as he’d kept the old holly wand by him for security. Although he had been experimenting more recently with wandless magic to fairly decent success, he didn’t want to test it in a fight against a god.

When they finally approached an enormous set of doors that Harry was sure the entirety of Hogwarts could fit under without a squeeze, Harry tensed further when the sounds of muffled shouting could be heard from within.

Merlin grimaced. “Damn, they’re not normally this bad until the solstice. I wonder what’s caused it?”

Before Harry could respond an extremely handsome boy loped towards them a cup dangling from his fingers idly. Looking them over slowly and slightly raising a brow at the sight of Teddy nestled in Harry’s arms, the youth turned to Merlin and said in a drawl,

“Well, hello again Emrys.”

Merlin smiled nervously at the blonde man and seemed more flustered than Harry was used to seeing him.

“Hello, Ganymede. Good-“ He cleared his throat. “Good to see you again. Do you think you could show us in? We rather need to see the council and I don’t want to just barge in.”

Ganymede seemed highly amused. “No, that probably wouldn’t go well for you. I’ll let you in don’t worry. It’s probably best to wait for them to settle down a bit though before trying.”

Merlin seemed to recover himself at that. “Why are they so highly strung? And what’s with all the whispering in the lower levels?” He questioned.

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“What on Earth are you here for then if you’re not here about the Titans?”

“Titans?!” Merlin turned, alarmed, giving Ganymede his full attention now. “Why are they worried about Titans? They haven’t rumbled the Earth in centuries! I would have felt it.”

Harry’s skin began to crawl as the conversation progressed and it was with some relief when the sudden silence from behind the doors wrenched Ganymede from his conversation with Merlin and he hurried them all over to the enormous join between the doors which was about the width of Harry himself. As he turned to push the doors open with an almighty heave that left Harry slightly slack-jawed, he hurriedly hissed to Merlin over his shoulder, “Remember, Emrys, he’s much nicer if you bow.”

Merlin snorted and didn’t dignify that with a reply although he still looked slightly unsettled from the talk of titans earlier. He turned and nodded at Harry who adjusted his hold on Teddy and squared his shoulders before they walked in side by side to the Council of the Olympian Gods.

When they finally stopped, they stood at the centre of a vast, round room. A vaulted ceiling stood so high above them that the skylight Harry assumed was there seemed just as far away as the sky.

Twelve thrones stood around them in a horseshoe arrangement with one that seemed styled to look like a fisherman’s chair standing empty to the side of the main throne they had halted before.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a cosy fireplace with a young girl sitting by it tending to the flames. He was surprised at how unnoticeable it was considering how anachronistic it felt in comparison to the rest of the room.

He nodded at the girl who returned it with warm eyes that glowed similar to how Harry had noticed Merlin’s sometimes did. Hers seemed flicker like candlelight though and Harry wondered where she fit into this whole picture. He would be the first to admit he didn’t have a totally comprehensive understanding of Greek Mythology. _Perhaps Hestia? She had something to do with hearths_ Harry pondered before he turned back to the man immediately in front of them.

There seemed to be a silent stand-off going on between Merlin and Zeus that a man to Harry’s left was watching with a greedy calculation that Harry took an immediate disliking to. A woman with slate grey eyes and blonde hair cleared her throat and Zeus’s eyes tightened.

“Welcome, Emrys. Long has it been since one of the Old Religion came before Our Council. Speak your business and We shall hear it.” Harry could _hear_ the capitalised ‘We’ and briefly wondered if this was how it felt when people spoke to the Queen.

“Zeus, King of Greeks, follower of the Flame.” Merlin greeted and Harry internally snorted at Merlin’s little jab and wondered what this man had done to put Merlin’s back up so much. “I present to your company one who has ascended that bears claim to Greek rites.”

Zeus’s eye’s widened. “’Bears claim?!’” He rumbled. “We needed a break anyway. Very well, explain the path of ascension and how our pantheons join, for any fool can see he reeks of Old Magic.” Merlin twitched at that but stayed calm and began to explain exactly what had happened to Harry.

As he talked, Harry watched the gods and goddesses’ reactions. The man he had tagged earlier as one to watch seemed unnaturally interested in Harry’s role within the magical civil war, while a blonde man sitting across from him on the other side of the circle that forcibly reminded Harry of a pre-obliviation Lockhart seemed more concerned with Harry’s role as an Instrument of Fate. The blonde woman who had called an end to Merlin and Zeus’s staring contest watched the whole thing with a cool sense of detachment, while a brown-haired man tapped away at his phone occasionally looking up at the proceedings and reacting to the tale. When Merlin had fully explained the relevance of the Deathly Hallows and their role and influence on Harry’s ascension, the skies darkened and the man Harry had dubbed in his head as ‘baby-Lockhart’ jumped up from his seat in alarm at the news of Harry’s changed but as yet unidentified soul type.

“Thanatos is summoned.” Zeus rumbled and struck the ground by the floor with a bolt that seemed to vibrate with energy. The skies above them darkened and the shadows lengthened behind the king of the gods. Teddy whimpered into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry shushed him and turned slightly, placing his body between the god and his godson. The woman next to Zeus, that Harry could only assume was Hera, frowned when her gaze zeroed in on Teddy. Before she could comment, however, a shadow at the door seemed to lengthen and thicken before totally solidifying and a man strode out of it towards where Harry and Merlin stood at the base of Zeus’s throne.

Covered in a black cloak with an enormous scythe held in one hand he looked the story book picture of death, sweeping towards them. As he drew level he nodded to Zeus, totally ignoring Harry and Merlin before speaking in a soft tone,

“God-king. You summoned me? It has been an age since Death entered your halls.”

Zeus’s face was thunderous as he looked down at the robed man.

“You’ve been careless, Thanatos. Regard your kin: a child who collected your trinkets and through an ascension bound himself to us.” He hissed, spitting out the words.

“Trinkets?” Thanatos questioned.

“So-called ‘Hallows’. A stick, a stone and a cloak.” The blonde woman explained as Zeus turned a shade of purple Harry hadn’t seen since Uncle Vernon. If he hadn’t been so tense, the sight would have been almost nostalgic.

Thanatos turned slowly his face contorting as he moved into one smooth motion of malice. The shift was so sudden from the mild if unsettling man before to this cruel creature, Harry almost took a step back.

“I see.” He hissed. “Greetings, little Peverell. You’ve travelled my halls before.”

Harry cradled Teddy’s head against him and regarded Thanatos warily, staying silent as the god continued. His voice icy in his rage. “Did you enjoy my gift for your hubris in seeking to tether me, petty child? I know one did its job before you stole them for your soul.” He taunted in smug sibilance. Harry felt his insides clench and the shades of his family in the forest flashed through his mind again as they had far too often in his nightmares.

Quietly, he responded, “I never searched to master Death. Two were given and one swore allegiance in battle, but all had their revenge for my unwitting theft. The cloak and stone for my death and the wand for my unnatural life. You needn’t worry that they did not perform their jobs.” The gods face twisted into a cruel smile.

“A clever child then, I see you recognise their true nature.”

“I learnt.”

Although the Death god seemed to have calmed throughout their interaction, Zeus was still rumbling in anger next to them.

“Enough.” He thundered. “You will not smite him then?” He asked Thanatos as Harry went cold when he realised what Zeus’s plan had been.

“It would be cruel to smite the puppet that only danced as its strings allowed.” Harry’s chest roared in anger and pain at that reminder and the very fibre of his being rebelled against the label. But if it saved their lives, for Teddy, he’d accept it. Thanatos turned a smile to Merlin then.

“Death is not cruel, it merely is. Emrys understands.” Merlin inclined his head stiffly as he watched the proceedings, his eyes a tempest of emotion as he regarded Harry with Teddy clinging to his shoulder in the centre of this endless room.

“You ask that I do nothing then.” Zeus questioned the god, his eyes flashing.

“I ask nothing. I merely state this is not his crime.”

“Thanatos speaks wisely, brother.” The blonde woman spoke again.

Zeus reclined back in his chair still clearly agitated but cooling at the words of his kin.

“What would you have me make him then?” Zeus questioned. “He cannot stay free when he has such influence within our world.” Harry exchanged a panicked glance with Merlin at the wording of that.

“He has immortality and power all ready, name him a domain and be done with it.” A tall woman sat on a throne of depicting harvest spoke.

“Sacrifice?” the blonde woman Harry had now identified as Athena suggested. “It shaped his mortal life after all and still sings in his blood.” The other gods nodded, and Harry became increasingly agitated.

“But what of the child?” A beautiful woman Harry hadn’t yet noticed whose form seemed to merge as he looked at her questioned. Teddy’s hair turned black in fear of her scrutiny and she clapped her hands in delight. “Oh! He morphs with the skill of one of my own children! Father, send him to my daughters, name him death god of sacrifice and the whole mess is sorted nicely.”

“No!” Harry shouted desperately wondering how this situation had escalated so badly. All the gods turned to him and their gazes seemed to burn into his back. “No, he’s my son and you can’t take him like that.”

“He is not even your own.” Hera condemned, her severe expression reminding Harry wildly in his panic of Aunt Petunia sneering at the neighbours. “Why claim family to one blatantly not of your blood. You make a mockery of the Ancient Laws.”

“Family isn’t always blood. He’s my godson and I love him like my own. I don’t know what Ancient Laws you’re talking about, but Teddy will always be mine to raise.”

“Godling, the Ancient Laws forbid this pantheon with interfering too directly with mortals.” A wizened man sitting in a metal throne spoke up, putting aside the disk he had been fiddling with the entire meeting.

Well that answered the question of how much god his soul was. But Harry shoved that revelation aside, he had seen an opening and seized it with all the skills of the youngest Hogwarts seeker in a century.

“Only _this_ Pantheon?” He pressed. “Merlin’s been meddling just fine so far with the ley lines.” Merlin next to him seemed to catch on immediately.

“It’s true. As a product of the Old Religion I can interact with the land at every level as magic runs through us all, this allows intervention with all living beings.”

“Well there you go!” Harry said triumphantly. “I can’t be in your pantheon because I’ve got to operate at all levels in Albion. It simply wouldn’t work.”

Merlin quickly backed him up. “The Old Religion created him for its purpose, it won’t lose its Instrument.”

The unimpressed look Athena shot him told him she at least knew he was shooting this bollocks out of his arse, but she reluctantly turned to Zeus and stated grudgingly, “There is a conflict, they are right.”

Harry felt relief flood through him, and he heard Merlin next to him let out a breath. It didn’t last.

“But that leaves a rogue instrument!” Baby-Lockhart burst out. Harry turned to Merlin in confusion, but Merlin was still staring at the man in concern as he carried on.

“He was born to disrupt a flow of fate and it is not a power you lose once your task is completed. ” Baby-Lockhart stood from his chair in agitation. “Father, trust me, I _know_ prophecy, and none would survive his intervention.”

Rumbling around the throne room followed that and Zeus turned a calculating eye on Harry. Athena too regarded him with new interest.

“The tactical advantage would be enormous.” she murmured quietly, though everyone heard her. Merlin stiffened.

“You will not steal an Instrument of Fate crafted from the Old Religion and pluck him from Albion to fight your own civil wars. We will have him returned no matter the cost!” He thundered, his eyes flashing golden and magic crackling along his fingers shooting from his staff and scorching the marble below it.

A piercing shriek like broken glass smashed through the still air of the throne room following Merlin’s ultimatum. A golden tear slashed through the air like knife through cloth and from the jagged edges choking, cloying mist unfurled preceding a woman with a pole cat on her shoulders and her palm raised to her side with a crackling flame held within it, a crazed glint in her eye. The gods in the room leaned back in their chairs in apparent shock at her entrance while the war god leaned forward in interest as he felt her battle lust. Harry staggered back clutching Teddy to him and trying not to breathe in the mist as he watched in shock as the woman flexed her hand and the ball of what seemed to be fiendfyre grew in size. Flickers of centaurs and manticores pressed out from the centre in a mad destructive swirl. Merlin had gone completely rigid before clasping his staff in both hands his face twisted in a snarl as he took a defensive stance against the woman.

“Emrys.” She crooned, “I thought I smelt your rancid earth and blood magic from the city but just had to drop in and say hi when you flexed your diseased magic in our halls,”

“Hecate.” He spat in response. Harry had never heard him talk like that before and it scared him more than the magic flaring through the room and bending the walls inwards.

“What are you going to do? Shoot mud at me?” She mocked dancing around where Merlin stood grounded. Her hand snapped out a fireball which Merlin carelessly flicked away, keeping his eyes on her as she circled him. Where her feet left the floor footprints of flame burnt in her wake. Harry was reminded of the stories people used to whisper about the Bacchae dancing themselves to madness in the woods.

“You’re as intoxicated by your power as you ever were. You understand nothing of the magic in life.” Merlin shot back.

“You mistake me for your paltry sorceress you had such difficulty subduing.” She laughed her eyes wild. “I am no Morgana.”

Merlin snapped.

Golden light burst from his staff in a tsunami and raced towards Hecate in an arc of power. Shrieking she turned and disappeared in a swirl of robes before sending a black jet back in response from her hand, the spell leaving soot in her palm as it left her. The duel began. On and on they fought hammering against each other with rolling dunes of power, Hecate’s spells leaving mist or fire in their wake, Merlin’s a crystal-clear clarity creating a web of crystallised light stretching in all directions with him in the centre as Hecate twirled around him. Hecate smirked and flicked her wrist calling up frothing black mist, this one a sinuously twisting thing that slunk towards Merlin absorbing in the spell residue from Merlin’s previous strikes around it and cannibalising it into its own seething mass as it circled him. As the spell made its steady progress though, the battle continued. Lights met in the middle and smashed into the walls around that shimmered in the air as reality seemed to bend in on itself. Still Hecate’s spell snuck through as blow after blow and parry after parry was fought.

Harry was crouching down using his body to protect Teddy as best he could with his strongest defensive dome around them frantically tracing runes in the air to reinforce it and watching the battle with wide eyes. He remembered thinking in the Ministry when Dumbledore and Voldemort had come to blows that he would never see another duel of its kind between such power houses. He thought he would never see such finesse and delicacy even in the furore of battle used against another person with no hesitation. This fight made that one look like children messing with party tricks. It was humbling and terrifying as Harry had absolutely no idea of how much of this Merlin could take. Panic had just started to really set in for his friend as Harry’s eye caught sight of the black spell still twisting through the air when he felt a warm hand on his arm. Turning he saw Hestia smiling at him, her eyes warm candles in the destructive mass off magic outside Harry’s dome.

“Emrys will live. They both will.” she murmured reassuringly.

“How the hell can you tell?!” Harry yelled frantically indicating the maelstrom of wind and light and magic that the throne room had become.

Hestia smiled wryly. “They’ve done this before.”

“What?!” Harry yelped as a concussive blast burst from the centre and everything held still for a second, Merlin and Hecate in the centre, their spells hanging around them like crystalline glass, before Merlin swiped his hand down through the black spell he had finally caught and its entire length zoomed in to the tiniest point convalescing into a tiny black diamond that he threw to the side with a flick of irritation. The brief pause was enough. Zeus threw his thunderbolt between them and bellowed in a voice that shook the room and righted the undulating walls that had warped with the power of the magic cast around them.

“Enough!”

Hecate blinked before looking down at her spell blackened palms and the kaleidoscope pattern her flaming feet had left behind in the centre of the throne room.

“Enough.” Zeus called again. Hecate turned to look at her King an expression of disappointment contorting her face. Her scowl deepened when she glanced back at her opponent only to see him leaning against his staff, one foot crossed over the other for all the world as though he had been standing there for hours, not a care in the world.

“Emrys you are once again pardoned for your violence as she acted out of turn. Hecate, return to your temple before you waste energy you cannot afford to forfeit in the coming battles.” With a snarl, she vanished.

Shakily, Harry stood.

“Merlin, what the fuck.”

Merlin turned to Harry and suddenly looked stricken as he took in the image Harry presented. Wand still raided to reinforce his dome, Hestia to his side her blank face more unnerving than one of rage would have been, and Teddy, worst of all, carefully cocooned against Harry staring at Merlin in terror. Merlin flinched when he saw the child’s face and made to walk towards Harry and Teddy before Zeus’s voice once again stopped him.

“Are you satisfied with your death match, Emrys?”

Merlin gulped and nodded, mumbling an apology before trying to turn to Harry and Teddy again. But Harry was more interested in what Zeus had just said.

“Why can she not afford to waste her energy?” He asked, finally returning to the centre of the room and watching out of the corner of his eye as every god lowered the shields they had placed around their thrones.

Zeus stared closely at Harry who met his gaze unflinchingly despite how shaken he felt after his friends display and the continuous tremors he felt coming from Teddy.

Eventually, Zeus responded. “Kronos is waking. Soon Typhon will walk the Earth again and many gods are turning on their kin in the coming conflict.”

Beside him Merlin took in a sharp breath.

“There is a prophecy.” Baby-Lockhart cut in staring intently at Harry. “A half-blood of the eldest gods/ Shall reach sixteen against all odds / And see the world in endless sleep/ The hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap/ A single choice shall end his days/ Olympus to preserve or raze.”

“Percy Jackson approaches his sixteenth birthday this coming year and war already rages in the oceans. We stand upon a knife’s edge.”

Harry’s blood was pounding in his ears.

“Tell me.” He said lowly, his voice shaking in anger. “You are not relying on this Percy Jackson to save you. Tell me you are not sending out children to die in a war between gods.”

“We have no choice!” Burst Artemis from her chair. “The monsters attack the demigods whether we wanted them to or not and the Titans will recruit all the monsters they can for their cause.”

“There’s always a choice.” Harry spat viciously. “You could offer them sanctuary and protection so even if these monsters attacked they’d be safe.”

“We do!” cut in baby-Lockhart. “There’s a summer camp we send them to train –“

“Oh a camp!” Harry laughed wildly his hands shaking as he held Teddy. “A ruddy death camp where you train your children to fight for you! Why not bring them here?!” Harry roared as several gods made to as though to interrupt him.“This is the most defensible place you can fucking get!”

“Olympus is the home of the Gods. There are laws.” Hera spat.

“Then you will kill your children for your pride.” Harry returned simply. He turned to look at the gods, meeting each in the eye. “I will not fight for these titans but I certainly won’t fight for you who’d hang the fate of your world on a child and a prophecy.” He heaved a breath and took a step back already exhausted with every aspect of this day.

“I will find this camp and protect these children as best I can, and you will not stop me because _you should be doing this_.” With that he nodded his head to Emrys that they were leaving and stalked out the Great Hall, not pausing even as Apollo clutched his head in pain as the future suddenly crowded and reshuffled violently. Ganymede stood outside the doors grinning hugely at Harry’s rage and Merlin’s quiet step of support pacing behind him as he turned his back on the God-king’s throne and left Olympus.

No one noticed in the madness of that throne meeting a shadow slink from the hall and report back that Emrys and a stranger had joined the fight.

No one noticed again when a week later the balance of Albion spiked and tilted before righting again as in the deepest pit in Tartarus a beautiful woman with long dark hair that cascaded around her shoulders, and deep red lips opened her eyes for the first time in centuries and smirked.


	5. What to do when you've just told the god-king to fuck off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still own nothing. Severely adrift in a beta-less sea. 
> 
> I admit this is a fair amount of filler, but some stuff needed to be explained and it feels weird to just move the plot on without showing how it affects the characters and their relationships. I'll probably edit this a fair amount though I can never leave these things alone.

Harry was shaking as they strode through Olympus to the mortal entrance. He knew Teddy could feel it in is arms but couldn’t bring himself to rein in the torrent of emotion running through him. Merlin’s steady pace behind him wasn’t helping. The thud of their footfalls seemed to synchronise with the pulse his heartbeat was making in his head until he felt like the sound was all around him pressing against his temples. He knew he should calm down. He just couldn’t. Too many lines had been crossed for Harry in that meeting.

When they finally reached the lift and started their descent down Merlin turned to Harry.

“I’m sor-“

“Shut up.” He interrupted in a quiet hiss. Harry was holding on by a thread at that point and didn’t need Merlin to fucking say _anything_ in that moment. All that mattered was getting Teddy home and into the hotel bed. Tucking him in. Holding him close and making sure he was ok. Everything else would have to wait.

Two hours later Teddy had finally been soothed to sleep. Merlin had had to leave the room as Teddy refused to speak with him still there. Harry had ignored Merlin’s too blank face as he finally worked out why Teddy wouldn’t settle and ordered Merlin out. Standing up finally Harry ran a shaking hand down his face and desperately wished for a Firewhiskey. Shooting another look at his son to make sure he really was ok, he turned to the door Merlin was waiting outside. Harry refused to leave Teddy alone in an unfamiliar room, despite the veritable fortress he had made of the place with wards. He opened the door and turned to survey Merlin slumped against the wall to the side of the frame. His face looked utterly exhausted and Harry wondered how much of that was from the duel. The thought rekindled his rage. Clearing his throat, he jerked his head back into the room and shut the door behind them shooting a quick colloportus at it for security. He led a stoic Merlin through to the balcony outside Teddy’s room overlooking Central park before stiffly seating himself and indicating at Merlin to do the same across from him, Teddy still firmly in his sightline through the glass window behind them.

“So, what’s the story.” He finally asked.

“Story?” came the tentative reply.

“No-one attacks someone like that for no reason, Merlin. Duels like that don’t happen just over differences in magic.” Merlin eyes were shuttered as Harry spoke, silently waiting for his friend to finish. “You owe me the truth. You put both of us in danger and terrified Teddy, I won’t be letting that one go without a bloody good reason why.”

For a second it seemed as though he wouldn’t respond before his whole body slumped, completely drained of tension. He lent forward, head in his hands as he lent over his knees, completely hiding his face from Harry. Finally, from between his fingers he responded.

“You remember I said the Greeks cohabited with us in Albion before they followed the Flame to the West?”

“Yes.”

“It went well for the most part. If there was conflict of domains, we just avoided each other as best we could and things carried on fairly peacefully.” He paused and sat up visibly steeling himself to tell the story as their eyes met. “The Greeks have a witch who ascended during the first Age of their Pantheon. A man hating enchantress named Circe. She was enraged at my power and standing within Albion. The Druids have always revered me and at the time they still had a huge population and were some of the strongest magical users. Though, to be fair, wand-wielders were gradually gaining in power with the creation of a school in Caledonia.” He looked at Harry, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face as he clarified. “Hogwarts.”

Sighing, Merlin sat back in his seat staring sightlessly over Central Park his eyes lost in memories of centuries long passed. “She enlisted Hecate to her cause. Hecate had long been angry at the lack of devotion the peoples of Albion gave her. She felt the magic coursing through the land and thought she should have been one of the most important gods there.

But Albion makes its own gods. It had no need for a foreign goddess with untethered magic that swirled as mist in the air rather than tying into the land. Circe and Hecate challenged me but they could not directly attack a foreign pantheon, even though I was more of a grey area in the Ancient laws than most. Circe came up with a solution. They woke Morgana and promised her revenge over me. It took the full power of myself and the Morrigan combined to subdue the alliance and the fight spilled into the mortal plane. It was vicious but eventually it ended and Morgana was once again banished to endless sleep. Hecate finds it difficult to let the old wounds go.”

Harry digested that for a while. It explained a few things he had been wondering for a while, namely why witches and wizards occasionally swore on the name of Circe when very little Greek influence otherwise permeated their culture. Several things about the story troubled Harry though.

“When you say they ‘awoke’ Morgana what do you mean by that, wasn’t she dead?”

“Morgana and I are gods in much the same way you are. We don’t have domains but can affect things on all the planes of existence since we’re deeply embedded in the cultural conscience in the West as individuals. I was always more magic than person anyway, but it turned Morgana into more than a woman as well.” Harry was shocked at the amount of ancient bitterness in Merlin’s tone at that. “She cannot die while people still remember her, but she can be locked into sleep. It’s a poor solution to the problem but it’s really the only way to keep the balance righted. She herself doesn’t disrupt it too much, in many ways she actually balances my presence out, but she has no respect for the peoples of Albion, she is too enthralled by its power and the balance becomes far more volatile and prone to irreparably tipping with her around.”

“How did they wake her?”

“I won’t speak the ritual but suffice to say it’s actually terrifyingly easy to do, but no one in their right minds would attempt it. Why would they? There’s no reason to resurrect a long dead crazed sorceress.”

‘So that’s why you snapped.”

“Yes.” He said heavily. “For what it’s worth, Harry, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have forgotten your and Teddy’s presence. It’s a poor excuse but I knew you had the power to protect yourself and didn’t think much further than that.” He stared into his lap. “Some friend I am.” He said miserably.

“Stop that.” Harry said briskly. “I won’t be having pity parties on my balcony. I’m still pissed you did that in front of Teddy, but I of all people understand old grudges and she did attack first. Hell, if Bellatrix Lestrange just showed up in front of me I’d probably punch her before hitting her with everything I had no questions asked. You just escalated it way more than you needed to. Get Teddy to forgive you and we’re good.” He regarded Merlin seriously for a moment before saying softly with the weight of someone who knew what it was to lose the trust of one of a very small handful of friends. “You’re still my friend. You’re just a friend I’m angry at right now.”

The tiny smile Merlin sent Harry at that was so achingly grateful Harry wondered how lonely Merlin had been for the centuries he had walked Albion that Harry merited such regard from the man when they’d only known each other for a few weeks. Shaking off the maudlin thought Harry turned to something else that had bothered him since they left Olympus.

“Why was Apollo so stressed about the Prophecies?”

Merlin stilled. Slowly, he replied. “Prophecy is a very interesting thing at a Divine level.”

Harry waited as Merlin appeared to pick his words with unusual care. “It’s one of the very few constants across pantheons, the idea that mortals and, to a certain extent, gods are answerable to a higher power is a powerful one. ‘Fate’ is a sort of caveat most Belief magic instils in its subjects as a sort of warning not to think they can do anything, even if other people think they can. It’s a sort of subconscious thing.” Merlin shrugged as he elaborated.

“People are very happy to create themselves a saviour as long as they know that should their saviour then turn on them consequences would follow. In Albion, ‘fate’ manifests as the Balance. As long as I keep the Balance, we’re good. But should it tip too far, carnage follows. In Ancient Greece, the Fates weave a loom.”

“But I had a prophecy for my life. How does a Balance translate into ruddy iambic pentameter?” Harry questioned in honest perplexity.

Merlin laughed. “Harry, the Balance isn’t just some weighing scale I constantly have in the back of my mind.”

Harry blushed slightly as Merlin described exactly how he had been imagining it whenever it was mentioned.

“It’s a many layered thing. I’m not really sure how to explain it. It’s like strands of magic guided by the Old Religion connecting everything, I guess. Some hold up the sky, some anchor into the Earth, some connect people together, and some hold people apart that. It’s a careful design that’s ever changing. It’s not a cage - people can cut through these strands and do it all the time; Free Will is an important thing in Albion. But it’s a balance between making strands, cutting strands and making sure everything flows through without huge tangles or gaping holes in the web.” Merlin’s hands waved through the air in front of him as he tried to put into words something he had always just felt deep within his soul.

“So when you said I’m an Instrument of Fate?”

“You have an unnaturally large impact on the strands in front of you. You had to to be able to break the hold of your Dark Lord on your people. But Apollo was right it does leave you with a rather terrifying power source.”

“Why do people keep saying I’m powerful? I mean, yeah, I’m not a bad wizard, but I’m not like _Dumbledore_ level. My defeat of Voldemort was practically all luck and pre-made plans.”

“Harry, have you actually _tried_ to explore your power? Particularly since you ascended?”

Harry stopped at that and mentally in his head skipped back over the past five years before slowly coming to the realisation that, well, he _hadn’t_. He’d just done all the magic he needed to look after Teddy and left it at that. Sure, he’d picked up runes in the last few years or so and that had gone well, but other than that he really had let a lot of his magic slide. No, that wasn’t quite true – he’d been doing small tests here and there, fiddling with wandless magic in the few hours he had to spare. He did a mental double take. He’d been doing _wandless magic_ for weeks with relatively little effort and had totally forgotten how hard that was actually supposed to be.

Something must have showed on his face as Merlin pressed his point gesturing to the room behind them.

“Take for example your wards on this room. They’re practically impenetrable, the Triple Goddess herself could attack the thing and it’d be totally fine. That’s not average wand-wielding magic, Harry.” Harry stared at him. His breathing seemed to become a little faster and he felt his pulse rapidly sky-rocket. He wasn’t quite sure why he was panicking so much about this, it just felt like the stick that broke the hypogriff’s back on top of all the other bullshit that had been dumped in his lap in the last decade.

 _This explains why the hot chocolate always came out hotter than I mean it to when I hit warming charms at it_ he thought in his daze. _Thank God I never sent one at Teddy._ His blood ran cold. _Oh fuck, Teddy, I could have killed Teddy with overpowered magic. Fuck. FUCK._

“You didn’t think to mention this _earlier?!_ ” He wheezed at Merlin who was looking at him with some concern, his hand raised halfway between them as though he’d made to grab his hand but held himself back. “Fuck, I could have killed Teddy in one scourgify! How haven’t I already?!”

He continued searching around him wildly as though the answer would just appear on the table between them. Magical power ups were dangerous things and heavily penalised by the Ministry for good reason. People adapted to their magic as they grew and if their power suddenly fluctuated their control would be totally whacked. Anything could happen with even the most harmless of spells as their magic burst out totally unharnessed. It happened sometimes after particularly violent magical maturities. Stories of maturities gone wrong littered the magical world as a sort of bogeyman.

Merlin seemed to see what Harry was thinking and rushed to explain. “Harry, your magic is a part of you. It loves Teddy just as much as you and would have compensated to fit that desire regardless of what you did by accident with your original incantation. You’re not only harnessing magic like you used to as a wand-wielder you’re making your own.”

“But we all make our own magic!”

“No, you fucking don’t.” Came the flat response. The shock of Merlin swearing cut through Harry’s panic and allowed him to focus on the Warlock in front of him. “A wizards soul fills up with the ambient magic around them. Some people have a greater capacity than others resulting in the discrepancy in core sizes, but very few witches and wizards generate their _own_ magic as that would be made from their own life source. As you are both a wizard and a god, your life force can take that sort of drain. When the wizard part screws your magic up, the god part steps in and sorts it. It severely weakens your overall power as you’re essentially fighting yourself but if you practiced the magic would grow to work in perfect harmony.”

“I- How do you _know_ all this?”

“I don’t. I’m hypothesising. But it makes more sense now that we have confirmation that you are actually part god. Oh! that reminds me, you might start seeing some weird stuff around the place.”

Harry had calmed by this point, reassured by Merlin’s explanation. He took a moment to centre himself before he questioned that last with a reasonable imitation of his usual dry tone. “Weirder than usual?”

“Point. But yeah, the Greek Mythology variant of weird this time I’m afraid.”

“… _Why?”_

“Because Zeus called you kin and Hephaestus recognised you as a God before the Council of the Gods and wasn’t contested. Their words accepted you into the Pantheon fully even though you’re still very much independent of it as you refused a domain and laid claim to the Old Religion.”

“What, when he called me 'Godling?'”

“Names have power.”

Harry wasn’t about to argue with that, he remembered too well the taboo on Voldemort’s name.

“So where does that leave me? A rogue sort of Greek god?”

“Not _too_ rogue. You did swear to protect their children.”

Harry swore and covered his face in his hands at the reminder, he still hadn't completely calmed down about that.

“Leave it for tonight. You’re exhausted, we both are. Get a night of sleep and take Teddy on a perfectly normal sightseeing day tomorrow before you do anything. We’ll talk more after.” Merlin finished gently.

Harry nodded wearily before heaving himself out his chair and seeing Merlin out. He stood staring at his godson sleeping peacefully in the hotel bed, before turning resolutely away and flopping onto his bed waving his hand absently over his body to switch his clothes with his pyjamas. He fell into an uneasy deep sleep not a moment after.

The next day Teddy dragged Harry all over New York and almost combusted on the spot with excitement at the sight of Time Square and the flashing neon signs. He’d been slightly withdrawn around Merlin for most of the morning, hiding behind Harry’s leg in uncharacteristic shyness until Merlin walked over one of the roaring ventilation grates in the pavement and his scarf flapped up into his face causing him to miss his mouth and drop his hot dog in shock as his arms flailed. Apparently, public humiliation was all Teddy needed to forgive someone. After that, Teddy had been practically vibrating as he bounced around, to the point where Harry had had to place a hand on his sons head to keep him from floating with accidental magic on the subway. Harry was still slightly tenser around the Merlin but it eventually leaked out of his frame after a long day of just messing around in a large city with an excitable five year old in tow.

The topic of the demi-god children Harry had sworn to protect finally came up again the next day over their breakfast. They were sequestered away in a tiny café, Merlin and Harry both cradling their coffee mugs. Teddy had been delighted to find out if he ordered cinnamon toast it came with a veritable mountain of marshmallow fluff on top. Harry had sighed at the sight of the plate coming towards them and how wide Teddy’s eyes had gone in reaction. He was actually fairly certain Teddy’s metamorphagus talents had kicked in as it simply wasn’t natural the expression of awe that had crossed the small boys face. Even the waitress had seemed slightly unnerved at his unholy glee. Harry wondered if it would be bad parenting to spike Teddy’s orange juice with a calming draft before the sugar high did too much damage. Merlin steadfastly ignored the disturbing carnage of Teddy’s plate when he finally brought it up again.

“Have you thought more about how you’re going to uphold this oath?”

Harry stared at the bubbles in his filter coffee clustering at the edges of his mug for a long time before replying.

“I’ll need to find the camp first and try and get them to let me ward it to hell and back. Past that I really don’t have a plan.” Harry turned his tired eyes to Merlin before saying in an overly defeatist tone that was only half in jest, “My plans never last anyway. Might as well just cut out the middleman and dive straight in.”

Merlin snorted at that. “No plan survives contact with the enemy.” He quoted wryly.

Harry pointed his finger at Merlin in agreement.

“How I’m going to find it and convince them though is beyond me.”

The sounds of Teddy attacking his breakfast beside them mixed with the general hubbub from the street outside settled over their table before Merlin broke it again.

"You could back out. You didn't swear on the River Styx. You have no obligation to this war."

"I will _not_ leave another child to bear the fate of the world on their shoulders because some old woman snorted too much fluxweed and spouted some garbled doomsday prediction and everyone else decided they'd prefer to hide behind poetry and children than actually doing something." He hissed furiously.

In his heart of hearts, he knew Prophecy was a lot more than hopped up biddies making limericks for shits and giggles, but it'd caused too many problems for Harry at this point to try and talk about it without feeling bitter. Just the thought of putting someone else through what Harry had made him feel dirty. Let alone a fifteen year old. Harry himself was still dealing with the fallout from his own Prophecy and knew the scars it'd left would never really heal. Fuck doing that to someone else.

“Well then. If you’re serious about joining this war, you’ll need to train.”

Harry looked up sharply.

“You’re good, Harry, really good. But you've had no practice with your new magic type and you should shore up any weak spots before wading in to battle.”

Harry could see the wisdom in that.

“Is this the part where you offer to take me on as your apprentice?” He asked jokingly before his eyes widened at the sight of Merlin shrugging sheepishly and studiously avoiding his eyes.

“You were!” He accused.

“Not an _apprentice_.” Merlin hastily covered. “I just thought you might like the help and someone to watch Teddy.”

Harry sat back in shock and smiled at the man across him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“We’ll have to go back to Albion though, you still need to connect to the land.”

“Damn, I’ll have to get another international portkey for when we come back then.” He huffed. “Still. Can’t be helped. How long do you think it’ll take for me to get used to the magic?”

“No idea.” Came the chipper response.

Harry levelled a look at Merlin over his coffee.

“Fabulous.”

Merlin clapped his hands. “Come on, young whippersnapper, up you get! Lots to do! Look Teddy’s face is sticky help the poor boy.”

Harry turned to Teddy and blanched at the glazed look in his eyes as he surveyed his finished plate in satisfaction.

A month later found Harry and Merlin standing once again on the beach by Shell Cottage .

“Have you been practicing your wand magic like we discussed?”

Harry nodded, once again marvelling at the difference in his friend when he was in teaching mode as opposed to slouching over Harry’s kitchen table clutching a toddy like a lifeline and muttering nonsense about questing beasts and whatever the hell a clotpole was.

Every spare minute he could snatch since their first conversation in that breakfast café Harry had been going back over what he had learnt in school meticulously relearning his control and trying to separate the two magic types within his body so he was only casting with one at a time. It had been going surprisingly well until now. But then Harry had always found looming war a surprisingly good motivator. He had progressed rapidly through the spell work until Merlin thought he was ready to try doing both magics simultaneously.

Which brought Harry back to the beach, wand in one hand, palm facing the sky with the other and trying to channel the different magics separately through each hand.

An hour later and he still hadn’t got it.

“Dammit.” He finally yelled in frustration throwing his hands down. To his great surprise a small fireball burst from one hand and stream of flame gushed from his wand. He yelped in shock and brought the palm that had created the fireball to his chest, cradling it as it tingled with lingering heat.

He looked up at Merlin in astonishment. Merlin was standing across from him with his arms folded, staff hovering behind him again, smirking in amusement.

“Getting a bit frustrated, are we?”

“Shut up.” Harry muttered massaging his palm again for a second before holding it out again to try again.

Determined to get it right this time, he turned his gaze inwards as he used to while attempting to clear his mind for occlumency. Searching through the various feelings and sensations he was currently experiencing and finally pulled on the fizzing warmth he had come to recognise as his magic. Gradually he pulled it forwards and it happily obliged gurgling along as it followed where he led until it was sparking just underneath his skin, running through his body and gathering in a pooling warmth under his palm.

Satisfied it would stay there, Harry then split his focus, this time drawing on the pulsing flare of rich energy he could feel running under his feet and rushing more chaotically to his side where it crashed against the shore. He could sense the magic stretching and pulling around him in Van Gogh swirls of energy so much more than just colours as though seeing through heat sensing goggles. He could taste the freedom of the magic in the waves on his lips and soak in the damp earth further to his other side beyond the beach. Still maintaining the fizzing gold from before in his palm, Harry gently drew the brittle magic from the stones beneath gradually seeking deeper and deeper spreading his magic under him like roots and gently soaking in the energy the earth lent him back. The rich magic felt heavy in his hand, waving through his body and gathering at the point just under where he grasped his wand. With a slow breath Harry released all the energy in his body in a steady trickle through both hands balancing the lightness in his palm with the heaviness at his wand.

Merlin’s pleased cry brought him back from basking in the magic that soaked his veins. He opened his eyes, unsure when they had closed, and was amazed to see a white gossamer mist cascading from both his palm and his wand pooling around him and settling into the pebbles. Everywhere the mist touched the pebbles seemed to shiver and wake. Before his entranced sight small shoots began to grow between stones, gently nudging them aside to make room for the white flower buds that bloomed proudly at his feet and creating a circle around him where bubbling water trickled through the cracks and crevices. Long, low notes overlapped each other ringing in the air in a rippling harmony like the lowest wind chime Harry had ever heard. He laughed in choked wonder as he finally stopped the steady stream of magic and life he had been channelling.

With shining eyes, he turned to Merlin who stood staring at Harry, tears running down his cheeks, his eyes burnished gold and the softest smile Harry had ever seen from his friend playing around the corners of his mouth.

The water around his feet started to sink back into the ground and flowers gradually folded in on themselves seeming to bow to each other and bob their heads in acknowledgement before returning quietly under the beach. The only sign they had ever been there was Harry’s mesmerized gaze and the sigh of life the air seemed to glow with.

Finally, Harry broke the silence.

“That was- that was. Wow.”

The gold finally faded from Merlin’s eyes and he met Harry's gaze.

“She welcomed you.” He said softly.

“She?”

“The Old Religion greeted you as you finally worked in harmony with the land as you were born to. You will never lose that connection. Thank you for allowing me to be here; it was an experience I’ll never forget.”

Harry looked down bashfully at the wonder in Merlin’s tone. He felt a deep connection to the earth around and the crashing energy of the sea filled him with vibrancy. His aura spread out like a cloak curling and playing and settling for the first time strong enough to be visible since the Crystal Cave.

As he looked out over the grey waves, still basking in this feeling of totally belonging, he started forward at the sight of an enormous tail flicking up and slicing through the crest of a wave, a pair of hooves cascading after.

“Is that-“ He started.

“A hippocampus? Must be.”

“It’s enormous.” Harry noted in surprise.

“I think it’s a Greek one. It’s said Poseidon’s children ride them across the oceans.”

Harry let out a whooshing breath at that.

“Yeah, guess they’d have to be pretty big for that. Come on, we’ve been outside for ages. We should head in before we freeze.”

Harry felt his lingering sense of wonder fade at the reminder of the vow he still had yet to fulfil. His aura stayed steady reaching out and grounding him as he walked back to the cottage, occasionally brushing against Merlin’s own and sending a warm sense of companionship back.

Since overcoming the hurdle of grounding his magic and unable to keep up the excuse he needed time to rework all his old spell technique, Harry finally had to face the task he’d been putting off since returning from America. He had to tell his friends he and Teddy were leaving Shell Cottage indefinitely. It wasn’t going to be pleasant. Ron and Hermione were already worried about him because of his isolation – after all they didn’t know he spent all the time when he wasn’t giving Teddy lessons or keeping the house running working through advanced spell theory with Merlin. And Harry really wasn’t about to try and tell them. Or well maybe he was. He wasn’t sure yet. It was a problem he was working on.

Teddy bounced in his lap and whacked his head against Harry chin.

“ _Ow_ , Ted. Not so violent, please. It’s just chess.”

“But I’m winning!”

Harry shot a glance at Merlin who was sighing dramatically staring at the carnage of the chess board between them. It was true, Teddy was trouncing him. Merlin’s dancing eyes met Harry’s and he shot him a brief glare to stop laughing at him before he agonisingly slowly moved his rook right into check. And the path of Teddy’s queen. Teddy howled in delight as his queen smashed Merlin’s rook to pieces and Harry was mildly concerned at how much pleasure his godson seemed to get from the ceramic violence unfolding before him. Harry was having far too much fun watching an ancient warlock being beaten by a five-year-old to really make a move to intervene though.

When he’d finally wrangled an over-excited Teddy into bed that night and returned downstairs, he flopped into his seat at the table exhausted from pondering the problem all day.

“You could have put up a bit more of a fight, you know.” He commented from where his face was smushed into the grain of the table-top, looking up at where Merlin was still collecting chess pieces and cajoling them back into their box.

“Shush. You saw his face. How could I have taken that victory from him?”

“You spoil him.”

“Coming from _you_?”

Harry groaned and sat up again staring pathetically at the kettle until Merlin took pity on him and with a long-suffering sigh started making tea in Harry’s favourite mug. Harry beamed at him. Merlin ignored it until they both sat at the table steaming drinks cradled in their hands.

“What’s bothering you. You’ve been off all day.” Merlin finally asked.

Harry sighed morosely at the reminder.

“You’re terribly dramatic did you know that?” Merlin asked at the action.

“I’m a Gryffindor.”

“And I was once a Slytherin. Get to the point.”

“You were a _Slyth-_ “

“Harry.”

“Fine. Fine. I don’t know if I should tell Ron and Hermione about the whole Greek thing and where me and Teddy will be going. I don’t want them to think I’m running away from them or something. And we’ve always done things together, it would feel wrong to lie to them now.”

“Well it sounds rather like you’ve made up your mind from that.”

“Yeah, but how do I get them to believe me rather than them thinking I’ve just lost it.” Harry knew the answer to that one before Merlin even said it.

“They’re your best friends, Harry, they’ll believe you.”

“But then what if they do and they want to come and help? I won’t be responsible for dragging them into another battle.”

“I think you should let them make that choice themselves.”

Harry looked down and picked at his sleeve. “I’d have to explain about the immortality thing as well. Hermione will worry. She won’t want me to be alone.”

“So tell her I’m here.”

“Really?” Harry looked up in shock. “But that’s your secret, I couldn’t possibly-“

“Harry, it’s not really a _secret_. I just don’t really broadcast it since most people would just think I was either utterly barmy or treat me like a god. If it would help, of course you can tell your friends.”

There was just something about that that felt wrong to Harry.

“If you’re so chill about revealing who you are, why do most people not know you’re still around? Is this like some huge open secret I had no idea about or something? Is there a conspiracy?” Harry’s joke fell flat as he took in Merlin’s awkward shifting in his seat and studious gaze on his mug.

“Oh.” he said softly looking at the other man. “No one’s got close enough that you wanted to tell, have they?” Merlin shot up from his seat and strode to the sink resting his palms on either side of the wide basin and stared out of the window.

“One thousand five hundred years is a long time to live, Harry.” He eventually responded. “I’ve told people, of course I have, just not many and they’ve all kept the secret for me. I trusted them and they returned that trust. It’s the same thing now with you. You can tell who you like but they can’t spread it. I won’t have the Wizarding World expecting the return of a god.”

Harry nodded slowly feeling slightly out of his depth with the emotions in this conversation. He felt like there was a whole undercurrent to this conversation that Merlin was steam rolling over and Harry was missing.

“When King Arthur returns will you tell everyone?” He asked curiously. Merlin froze.

“What?” He whispered. Harry immediately wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Merlin’s eyes were wide and boring into his with an intensity Harry had never experienced from him before.

“Forget I asked anything, I- I shouldn’t’ve.” Harry quickly stuttered out. Merlin’s eyes searched Harry’s face for a long moment before he seemed to find what he was looking for and slowly returned to his seat at the table.

“You’ll tell your friends then?” Merlin asked deftly moving the conversation away from whatever dangerous territory Harry had blundered into.

Harry nodded reluctantly.

“If they care about you they deserve the truth, Harry. It’ll be fine. I can watch Teddy if you want to do it in person.”

“No- no, I’ll do it here. Send them an owl to floo over. Thank you though.”

Merlin brushed it off and reached for his scarf and coat hanging on the hook by the door. Turning at the threshold he sent Harry a half-smile in farewell and said in an earnest tone, “Good luck. Let me know how it goes.”

Harry waved him goodbye and sat stewing at the table long after Merlin had left. Rolling over all that he still had to do in his mind as he stared into the crackling flames of the fireplace in the corner with its flickering orange light mingling with Harry’s aura that blanketed the room, occasionally glancing at his palm where a similar tiny flame spurted and sparked.


	6. When in doubt wing it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trusting friends and chance encounters in alleys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still own nothing. This is getting repetitive.

All in all, Harry thought the conversation with Ron and Hermione had gone rather well. It had been a bit dicey in the middle there when both had covertly drawn their wands under the table and started scanning his vitals and health to see if he was under the effects of a befuddlement spell or some more esoteric potion- Harry had politely ignored it. But they’d recovered from that and were now sitting in silence sharing significant looks with each other that Harry was also politely ignoring.

He regarded his friends for a moment as he sat there waiting for the verdict, taking in how they’d changed. Ron had broadened out slightly in the last few years – grown into his height at last, though Harry predicted he’d probably never quite lose his lankiness. Harry had teased him for the slight stubble growing in when he’d first stepped out the floo. Ron had rubbed his cheeks self-consciously but had looked pleased at Hermione’s staunch support of it. Harry had snorted when she’d said it made him look more ‘distinguished’. Though Harry could admit it went a long way in finally ridding Ron of the last vestiges of teenage youthfulness he’d had lingering. He looked less like an awkward colt than he had – all long limbs and hesitant to assert himself. He’d settled into himself.

Hermione, too, had mellowed. Her face had lost its gaunt pallor and sharp angles. Harry grimly remembered how she’d seemed almost formed of brittle glass by the end of the war. The planes of her face had softened now with a healthy glow supported by rosy cheeks and bright eyes. Ron’s easy demeanour and steady presence had grounded her as she’d bulldozed her way through the ministry, righting all the wrongs she’d been aching to since that first whiff of S.P.E.W. Finding her parents and returning them to Britain had also gone a long way to further her happiness.

Harry wondered what they saw when they looked at him. He didn’t age, but had caring for Teddy and living quietly in Shell Cottage left its mark on Harry? Could they map out the last five years as easily on his face as he could see it in theirs? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Running his hand through his hair and thoroughly scruffing it up before nervously flattening it, he finally broke the silence.

“So? What do you think?”

Ron appeared to come to a decision and shook his head at Hermione before turning to Harry. “About the fact you’re a god, Merlin’s alive and kicking or the fact there’s some poor sod whose ripping off your life story in States?” he snorted.

“ _Ron_.” Hermione hissed shooting him a look. “Harry, I’m sorry. I’m sure you think you’re right, and you must have your reasons, but don’t you think it all seems, well, a little _far-fetched?”_

Harry thought that was a bit rich coming from a witch who’d partially turned herself into a cat with a botched potion when she was only twelve and not for the first time thought that Hermione needed to revisit where she drew her lines for what she was willing to believe. Thankfully, Ron seemed to share his sentiment.

“Well, I’m with you. You’ve never been wrong so far and I’m not about to start doubting you now.”

Harry winced at that blatant falsity, but he nevertheless glowed with a soft warmth at Ron’s unwavering support.

“I’m not _doubting_ him.” Hermione said, flustered, turning beseeching eyes on Harry. “I just think it’s worth considering that there might be other explanations for all this.”

 _Ah._ _That’s what it was. She was scared._ Abruptly Harry felt all the guilt that Merlin had soothed from him the other night return. He hadn’t wanted to pull his friends into this mess and now here he was already frightening them just as they’d settled down.

“I’ve scared you. I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I shouldn’t’ve.” Harry said seething at himself for his foolishness.

“Oh, Harry. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Her hand reached across the sofa and clasped his own. “We just worry for you. That’s all. And well, if this ‘Merlin’” Here her mouth twisted slightly in a scoff. “ _If_ he’s right - then that’s a big problem. We’ll need to start researching ageing potions and stopping the ministry from looking too closely of course.” She reeled off, staring slightly past Harry’s head as she muttered under her breath. Harry felt a rush of affection for her. Trust Hermione to already begin to plan ahead for him without even being totally on board yet.

Hermione’s scepticism didn't last long. It had endured approximately as long as it took for Merlin to wandlessly merge himself into a stooped, bearded old man and wave his hand to make the air shimmer about them in an allusion showing stacks and stacks of shelves all holding rolls and rolls of parchment, stretching as far as the eye could see in either direction. Still with no spell uttered and not a wand in sight, but instead with a flash of golden eyes, he allowed the image to drop and stood once again as a young man before them in Harry’s kitchen.

Hermione collapsed back into her chair, Ron beside her stupefied into silence at the display. Hermione’s shock soon turned into outrage.

“But that was _wandless_ magic!” she accused. “On an illusion! Only the most powerful wizards – and so realisti- but wandl- and your appearance! There wasn’t even a spell!” Her eyes narrowed at Merlin. His smile wiped off his face immediately at her sudden change and he suddenly looked very nervous.

“Was that a potion? Did you give us a potion?”

“No!” Merlin hastened to reassure her. “Just old magic, it’s not unbearably difficult to achieve, just obscure knowledge.”

“And where did you acquire this ‘obscure knowledge’?” She pressed further.

“You saw the library we were in?” Merlin questioned and Hermione nodded, eyes not leaving Merlin’s face, and squinting at him for any sign of deception. “That was the library of Alexandria. The non-burnt bit.” He hurriedly added.

 _Oh, that was well done_ Harry internally applauded _that little titbit will distract her alright_. Harry suddenly found it very easy to believe that Merlin had been a Slytherin once upon a time. He’d been struggling to marry his image of the friendly, energetic man with his general dealings with the house and had drawn quite a few blanks. This little display made things much clearer.

Ron finally appeared to be back with the world of the living. He peered at Merlin for a long time before asking in a hard voice.

“So where were you then?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The war. Everyone dying. Ring a bell? Could have used you sometime around then.” He stated harshly, his eyes flints.

“It wasn’t just people dying. The land was being corrupted too by the amount of dark and death magic sinking into the Isles. I had to step in and cleanse the ley lines before the taint completely diseased the magic of the whole country. It was a full-time job – I sometimes spent entire weeks just communing with the land. I- I’m sorry I couldn’t help more.”

Ron weighed that for a long considering moment. Eventually, he leaned back and said in a much friendlier tone.

“Nice to meet you then. Name’s Ron Weasley.” He stood up and clasped hands with Merlin.

“Merlin.” Merlin stood up and grinned at him. Ron abruptly paled and looked down at their clasped hands.

“Oh, bloody hell I just shook hands with Merlin.” A gleeful grin stole across his face. “Charlie’ll be _so jealous_.”

Merlin dithered awkwardly before seating himself again.

“It’s not all that exciting, the stories are all vastly exaggerated.” He hastened to reassure, his hands flapping by his sides as though to brush off his reputation.

“That’s not how you broke it to me when we first met. All glowing eyes and floating staffs and whatnot.” Harry protested with an affronted look.

“Well, I was on a bit time schedule.”

“All: Albion’s needs me, Harry, I’m part of the land, Harry, you’re a god too Harry, can’t you feel the magic?” Harry continued grumbling. “None of this ‘I’m nothing special’ rot. You’re such a fraud.”

Hermione looked scandalised at his discontent mutterings. Ron turned a considering eye between the two of them.

“So, you’ve been helping Harry with all this then?” He questioned. There seemed to be a double layer to the question, but Harry couldn’t quite grasp it.

“As best I can.” Merlin responded.

“And you support this whole ‘saving the Greek kids’ thing?”

“I think it’s a terrible idea personally, but I can’t deny the whole situation has troubled me for a while and I’ll happily back Harry up where he needs. He was right that children had no place in war.”

Hermione snapped back to attention at that.

“Yes, this war. What do we know about that and how can we help?’

It appeared Hermione was finally on board. Harry grinned, once again astounded at how brilliant his friends were considering the amount of shit he’d put them through over the years.

A long conversation followed. Merlin gave Ron and Hermione a brief rundown of the state of the Greek Pantheon and everything he’d managed to wheedle out of Ganymede. That came a surprise to Harry, he hadn’t known Merlin had contacted the blond youth. Ganymede had provided lots of information on this Percy Jackson and the rise in monster activity in the last few years, though he regrettably didn't know where the camp was. They sat there until the early hours discussing likely players in the conflict, how best to try and approach the camp and what to do if the demigods actually accepted his help. They all seemed a bit stumped about the location of the camp - Hermione suggested scrying but was quickly shot down - eventually they left that problem for the time being to talk over everything else that needed considering.

Not once did they suggest it wasn’t Harry’s problem and he should just leave it – both of them knew him far too well for that.

Eventually, just as dawn was starting to slowly stain the horizon, Harry called an end to what had undoubtedly become a war council. He wandered over to the fireplace waiting for Ron and Merlin to finish their debate over the usefulness of diversionary tactics in battle. Both of them appeared to know a great deal about the subject and seemed very satisfied to finally have someone else to bounce ideas off.

Harry started when Hermione tentatively cleared her throat behind him.

“Harry, I was wondering if I might have a word.” She said, not quite meeting his eye and wringing her hands before shaking them out again.

Harry nodded mutely, no idea where this was going, and gestured at the kitchen chair opposite him. Darting a look at him, Hermione turned and pulled a full binder out of her beaded bag. The thing was covered in sticky notes and coloured tabs hanging over the page edge. Hermione’s neat scrawl was visible over every inch of the bits of parchment visible and she carefully placed the binder on the table between them.

Taking a deep breath, she visibly steeled herself, squaring her shoulders into a defiant stance.

“That is everything I could find on unnatural aging.”

Harry was gobsmacked. There was months of work in that binder, why on earth had Hermione put so much energy into something like that? unless –

“You knew.” He accused. She shifted slightly.

“Not for certain. It was Neville, actually, who first raised it. He saw you about a year ago and said it felt like going back in time when he first looked at you.”

Harry’s gut clenched at that. “You’ve been talking with the others then. About me.”

“Harry, we weren’t sure if you’d _noticed_. You were already so isolated we didn’t want to tell you with no explanation only for you to do something bloody noble and shut yourself away for our safety or something.”

Sometimes Harry hated how well she knew him.

“So you went looking for answers.”

“Yes.”

“Did you think you’d found any?”

“There were one or two possibilities, but none of them seemed quite right. Actually, the closest one we had was that the horcrux leaving had cleansed your soul leaving it totally pure.” Harry snorted at that. That made him sound like a virginal maiden.

“It’s the most important step to creating a philosopher’s stone and we thought you might have accidentally gone further in the process and not realised, triggering your body into a total stasis.” Hermione clarified, catching his derision.

“That seems rather unlikely though.”

“This is you we’re talking about.”

Harry nodded at that. He’d had similar thoughts himself often enough.

“Relieved to finally have the answer then?” Hermione never did like an unsolved mystery.

She chuckled wetly. “Not really. I’d hoped we were just being silly.”

“Hey, hey. You weren’t. You were being brilliant. As usual. Thank you, ‘mione.” He soothed, noticing her eyes were suspiciously misty and dragging his chair over to hers so he could put his arm round her shoulders in comfort.

“It’s just not _fair_.” Hermione snuffled into his shoulders. “Why you? Why not someone who actually wanted immortality.” Harry shushed her.

“It’s not so bad. At least I can be sure I’ll never leave Teddy stranded.” Harry soothed her as he pointedly ignored the voice in his head that still occasionally screamed incoherently in panic over the whole immortality thing.

She smiled at him, extracting herself from his embrace and huffing in annoyance at her tears.

“I don’t know why I’m so emotional these days, I really don’t. I’ve been like this all month.”

“Er- maybe you’re tired?” Harry offered, not really sure how to offer advice on this.

“That too. I keep feeling sick in the mornings- can barely keep my breakfast down most days.” She straightened herself out and stood from the table.

“I’ll leave that with you to have a look over. Some of it really is rather interesting, even if we know it’s not relevant anymore.”

“Thanks ‘mione, really. And pass that on to whoever helped you with it.”

She smiled and waved her hand between them in modesty. “It was mostly Luna for the slightly more _imaginative_ ideas. Are you planning on telling her and Neville?”

“Probably, yeah.”

“And Ginny?” She asked hesitantly. Harry sighed, a few years ago it wouldn’t even have been a question. But they just weren’t as close anymore, their lives had taken different paths and Harry could live with that.

“Er, wasn’t planning on it actually, no.” He led her over to fireplace. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Hermione whacked him on the arm for that.

Ron wondered over and they promised to visit again soon to iron out the details. With a swirl of green fire they were whisked away.

“Don’t know what you were so worried about they were delightful.” Merlin said having collapsed onto the sofa.

“Don’t speak too soon. Luna’s next.” Harry grumbled darkly. A loud snore was his reply.

As it turned out, apparently Luna and Merlin knew each other. She’d taken one look at him and exclaimed in delight –

“Oh! You made it then! That’s good.”

Merlin looked at her a bit perturbed.

“Ms Lovegood? I’m not sure I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Don’t be silly, Menelaus of course we have.”

Merlin’s face split into a wide grin. “That was you?! My, you’ve grown. Give us a twirl then.”

Luna giggled and stood up, her long yellow skirt flaring around her as she obligingly swirled on the spot.

“As graceful as a dryad.” Merlin pronounced, offering his hand to her leading her back to her seat.

“You know you left quite suddenly. The plums were never the same.” She suddenly accused, her normally vague eyes narrowed on Merlin’s cobalt blue.

“Couldn’t be helped I’m afraid. I had to maintain the Circles for a while.”

Luna nodded at that. “Daddy did say he felt the Earth sigh once or twice.”

Harry chose that moment to break in. “So- you two know each other then?”

“Oh yes, he used to make a nuisance of himself in our garden when I was young.”

“I feel I should clarify I was predominantly a butterfly at the time.” Merlin cut in.

“How’d you manage that?”

“Pissed off a goblin.” He shrugged. “Could’ve been worse. I’ve seen people get donkey ears for less.”

Harry had the rather vague impression that everything about this conversation was perfectly normal if one just tilted their head to the left and squinted slightly. It was a feeling he’d become quite used to around Luna and found he’d rather missed it.

“I am glad you're a person again. The bogles have come back you know.” Luna said serenely.

Merlin looked at her sharply. “Not for you I hope.”

“No…they just wander. I’ve left hazel out, of course, but they just go around it.”

Merlin looked very disquieted at that. “Morgana used to control them. I don’t know why they’d be re-emerging…” He trailed off. “Thank you, little moon. Stay safe.”

Luna smiled as she patted Harry on the shoulder and bent to kiss little Teddy’s head where he was practicing his letters on the sofa before stepping gracefully into the fireplace.

It was Luna’s news that had really spurred Merlin into action. If the monsters of Albion were stirring, then the Greek influence that had long since stifled them was waning. It meant they had far less time than they thought they did to find the camp. Every day now was spent in preparation for leaving. With Harry’s friends told, and Hermione on the case to divert the Ministry’s attention from Harry there was nothing really standing in their way from returning to America.

Finally, the last box was packed into Harry’s across shoulder satchel. The thing practically carried the whole house and was made more of spell work than fabric when Harry was done with it.

Hermione had had the time of her life finding them an apartment to rent on the Upper East Side while they searched for the camp and had made a highly illegal portkey to take them to an alley near it to avoid the notice of either countries ministries. She promised that she and Ron would soon follow when they could get the time off from work. The joy she’d taken in it made him wonder if she’d missed subverting the law since she’d been toeing the line in her new ministerial position. Taking Teddy’s hand in his own he nodded to Merlin before taking a deep breath as they all reached for the portkey.

They arrived to a great crashing noise, someone swearing colourfully and a blast of golden dust blowing their hair back. Harry sprang into action.

“Merlin! Take Teddy and dampen the area! I’ll take big mouth!”

“Harry, that’s a changeling! You’ll need silver.” Merlin yelled, yanking Teddy behind him and banging his staff on the floor. Long guttural words streamed from his mouth as a translucent dome surrounded the whole alley trapping Harry, the Changeling, the other boy and the woman, with what looked like one metal leg and one goat leg, attacking him.

The boy hadn’t noticed their arrival yet and was maintaining a continuous stream of curses with his mantra:

“Please fucking die, please fucking die, why do you keep following me, bloody cheerleaders, please fucking die.” as he danced around her occasionally jabbing her with a sword until he was forced to duck under the limited cover in the alley when she returned with a volley of fire balls.

She caught him with a thrown wooden crate, and he toppled over smacking against the alley walls. He quickly sat up before Harry could dart forward and groggily blinked down at the blood streaming form his nose and rapidly coating his green hoodie.

“Damn. Mum’ll be pissed. Blood takes ages to wash out.”

His sea green eyes widened as he looked up and saw the empousa bearing down on him. He hurriedly rolled out of the way and thrust the crate back in her direction, pulling himself to his feet in one smooth motion that told of hours of training. Harry made to leap forward and intervene – the boy had taken quite a hit- but found his path blocked by one of the most disgusting sights he’d ever seen. The thing turning on him looked like an average human until the head, where a huge mouth seemed to envelope its whole face. Sharp black fangs lining its gums glistened with strings of saliva that threaded between its jaws and made Harry wildly think of a murderous pacman. Remembering Merlin's words, Harry quickly conjured a silver dagger and banished it at the Changeling while ducking under a jet of black mist that had come from its overly long spindly fingers. The silver hit true and it staggered. With a snarl it righted itself and continued it’s advance on Harry.

“Why the hell didn’t that work?” He hollered at Merlin.

“Try bathing it in Old Magic first!” Came the frantic reply.

“How the hell do I do that?!” he roared.

Harry quickly surveyed his options before doing the only thing he could think of. He conjured a second curved dagger and sliced it across his palm wetting it in his blood then frantically pulling an almighty burst of energy from the land and stabbing the dripping dagger right into the centre of his pull in the earth. A golden and silver glow surrounded the dagger before Harry pulled it out again. Mottled crimson and tarnished silver marbled along the blade now, but Harry didn’t pause to marvel at the change as he darted forward, ducking under another swipe from the monster and stabbed it in the chest with a force that rattled his arm.

The thing screamed and fell backwards, landing on the floor with a crash. Its grinning head cracked against the pavement and its whole body juddered with the force of it. Harry watched in amazement as it suddenly began to shrivel up and crumbled into black dust on the floor. A shout of triumph from the other end of the alley indicated the boy had just won a similar victory but Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him. His dagger clattered to the ground as the body it was stuck in disintegrated. Around it, shoots of grass were forcing their way out creating a lush bed, the same shape as the body had been, dotted with thistles and other weeds. Harry raised round eyes to Merlin who stood grimly over his shoulder, Teddy behind his legs.

“Death and life go hand in hand with the Old Religion.” He responded heavily. “This is bad. The Changeling shouldn’t have been here, especially with an empousa.”

Harry swiped a hand over his face and stooped to retrieve his dagger. “That is the last time I’m taking one of Hermione’s illegal portkeys; they always take us somewhere stupid.”

Merlin snorted and nodded, raising an eyebrow at the dagger. “You know when I said Old Magic I didn’t quite mean your _blood_. That shouldn’t have been nearly as effective as it was. What in Avalon do you have running through you that causes spontaneous combustion?” He questioned in resigned bafflement.

“Eh- bit of basilisk venom, bit of phoenix tears, some sacrificial love magic and probably some other stuff. Why, what’s in yours?”

Merlin whistled. “Not enough alcohol apparently.”

A scuffle in front of them made them both look up. The boy was standing in front of them, his sword held loosely by his side and eyeing the grass patch and Harry’s dagger he'd stuffed in his belt in suspicion. His tanned face was streaked with blood and dirt and his black hair made a wild nest on top of his head. Although clearly only around fifteen, the boy was already around Harry’s height and his broad shoulders and lean physique told of an active lifestyle. He wrinkled his nose at the blood staining his scruffy trainers and turned his eyes on Merlin and Harry.

“I’ve never seen a monster like that before. Or one that doesn’t turn into golden dust after killing it.” He said, his New York accent thick on his tongue. “Who in Hades _are_ you guys?”

Teddy suddenly found his voice and darted forward. “This is Merlin and this is Daddy.” He pointed an imperious finger at each of them. “I’m Teddy and I like your sword.” He carried on eying the boy’s sword in awe.

“Daddy, his sword is much better than yours.” He insisted nodding his head vigorously back at Harry.

“Thanks, Ted.” Harry said wryly before pulling the young boy back against his body. “Name’s Harry Potter.” He said nodding in greeting at the boy. “Why were they attacking you?” He questioned in curiosity.

The boy seemed startled by the question and turned wide eyes from where he’d been looking at Teddy. “Um- because I’m a demigod. I mean – aren’t you? You can see them, so I just sort of assumed.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh! Unless you’re clear sighted mortals. But then why the dagger?”

Percy took in the people in front of him. One of them stood much taller than the other and the air around him seemed to ripple immediately making him think of the few gods he’d met. He seemed a few years older than the other and seemed to have that same indefinable aura of power around him - though the effect was ruined somewhat by his goofy ears and long red scarf bunched around his neck, his nose peeking over the top pinking in the cold. He dismissed the thought that this guy was a god simply because of how _normal_ the guy looked.

The other boy was just a teenager - _way_ too young to be the father of the little kid, he was sure there was a story there. Percy guessed him to be around seventeen or so and he held himself with the same sort of confidence that Luke had. He recognised the bearing of a leader. That combined with the way he’d easily dispatched what had to be a baby-Charybdis (though he'd never even heard of such a thing before) had been his main reason for assuming they were demigods.

The little kid with the blue hair stumped him a bit though. _Cool hair, bro_ he mentally complimented.

Harry startled at the mention of demigods. _Could this be?_ He wondered. _Surely not, he wasn’t nearly that lucky._ He shared a wide eyed glance with Merlin, who nodded slightly. Realising that here was his ticket to the camp he decided on brutal honesty. He’d always appreciated it when he was a kid and it would explain the situation pretty quickly. Clearing his throat, he mentally flipped the bird at the Statute of Secrecy before plunging straight in.

“Well, you see – I’m a wizard, among other things, and so’s Teddy here. And Merlin’s a Product of The Old Religion. And we got into a bit of a tiff with the gods and decided to help you guys out with the Titans. Not the gods, mind, just the demigods.”

Percy digested that for a second.

“Why only the demigods?” He questioned suspiciously, people with grudges against the gods tended to be on Kronos’s side and though they looked friendly enough - so had Luke at first.

“Because they’re being dicks to their kids.” Came the blunt response. Percy blinked.

“I’m – um – not sure you should say that aloud, man.” He said nervously, glancing at the sky. Inside, part of him privately agreed with the guy and he warmed more to them. He still stayed on his guard though, they _were_ total strangers who had kind of appeared out of nowhere.

“Please, I’ve said worse to their faces. If they can’t take it they need to grow a sturdier pair.” That was it, Percy loved this guy too much for him to turn out to be a monster.

“But you don’t support the titans?” He double checked.

“Course not, they want to destroy the world. I live here, why the hell would I support that?” That had to be the most solid argument Percy had heard in a while. It was refreshingly devoid of bitterness and the kid went up several more notches in his estimation. Dang, this guy was smashing all the right buttons.

“Can’t argue with that, dude. So – “ he hesitated. “Wizards then?”

“And warlocks.” The older guy put in cheerfully, though it was slightly muffled behind his scarf.

“Disciples of Hecate?” Percy suggested. There couldn’t just be _wizards_ kicking about the place. Surely they’d have noticed or someone would have mentioned it? _You didn’t notice the gods until they told you though_ an annoying voice that sounded suspiciously like Annabeth reminded him.

“I should think not.” The older guy huffed. He had a weird accent – it rose and fell a lot more than the other guy’s stereotypical English. _Irish?_ he mused.

“Just wizards I’m afraid. There are quite a few of us, but as far as I know we’re the only ones who know about the greeks.”

“So how come you know?”

“Personal circumstances.”

“You’re gonna have to give me better than that if you want to help us.” Percy warned. The offer of support was welcome, particularly since Percy liked them and they seemed to know what to do with the random new monsters that were showing up that no one had any idea what to do with. A year ago he’d probably have jumped at the chance. But he'd learnt since then and this seemed a little _too_ easy. He was still waiting for the catch. Harry seemed to notice his hesitance.

“Listen, this might take a while to explain and we’re all covered in blood. Let’s head back to our place and we can fill you in over a cup of tea.”

Gods that was so British it hurt but Percy nonetheless agreed. The offer of more information made him even more hopeful and they _had_ sided with him against the monsters. A thought occurred to him.

“If you’re wizards can’t you just magic it off?”

“It’s the not the same as a proper scrub.” The kid – _Harry –_ his brain supplied, answered.

Merlin rolled his eyes at that, and when Harry turned away, waved his staff over Percy’s blood-stained shoes, siphoning off all the grime and dirt leaving them cleaner than they’d been in months. He winked at Percy’s stunned expression seeing magic so obviously used and raised a finger to his lips glancing significantly at Harry’s back.

At least that confirmed they'd been telling the truth then. He relaxed slightly before his brain did a double take. _A wizard named ‘Merlin’. No – it couldn’t actually be-?_ He side-eyed Merlin who shot him an innocent grin, though the knowing glint in his eyes suggested he knew exactly what Percy was thinking.

_Gods._ Percy thought. _All I wanted was to finish my homework on time, why does this always happen?_


	7. Annabeth's no good, very bad day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stilllllll own nothing. A bit darker and a lot shorter but I felt it was a good place to end so pls don't hold it against me. I won't be making it a habit.

It all started with the Coblynau.

Annabeth had been busy setting traps in the forest preparing for Capture the Flag that evening. It was a miserable February day and had been raining for hours but Clarisse had been driving her up the wall complaining about the lack of weapons her cabin had and she really wanted to knock the whole Ares cabin down a peg this evening. Hence the digging in the mud. She was placing prank mines in little holes all along the river. A terrifying invention from the new Hermes and Hephaestus cabin alliance. Annabeth had soon remembered why the camp tried to normally prevent that. It was an ungodly combination and had set Chiron’s left eye twitching when he’d seen them all in a conspiring huddle, suspicious bangs from unknown sources muffled by the press of their bodies. Each of them would occasionally glance over their shoulders at the other campers before grinning evilly and turning back to their work. If it worked against the Ares campers though, Annabeth wouldn’t complain.

She’d just turned to start the last hole when a small wrinkled thing had jumped out from behind the bush and sat in the furrow she’d made. She started in surprise and fell back on her bum with a thump. The goblin creature leered at her before scrabbling in the dirt around it. Occasionally it would pick up a shiny pebble and examine it before tossing it at Annabeth with a huff. This happened a few times before she finally recovered herself.

“ _Ow._ Stop – stop that. Stop it. STOP.” She yelled in frustration as it kept pelting her with rocks.

The little goblin raised its scaly eyebrows before looking her up and down before smirking.

“Ych-af-i.” It sneered at her before continuing to pelt rocks with deadly accuracy.

“What?” she questioned. The little demon in front of her started to throw mud at her next. A great glob of it landed on Annabeth’s cheek and slid down her face. It grinned as she wiped it off her face in disgust. That little git.

“Why are you doing this, stop it - what even are you?” She said, her hands raised in front of her and desperately trying to dodge the earthy assault. She was valiantly restraining the urge to lunge forward and clobber the thing but held herself back as, although it was irritating as hell, it hadn’t actually tried to kill her yet. Morals were bloody tiresome things, she thought, dodging another splat of mud. Oh fabulous, it had sticks now. The tiny goblin was wielding them like nunchucks and Annabeth swore at the sight. Not something you see every day there, she noted wildly.

She grabbed her yankees hat from where she’d stuffed it in her back pocket and jammed it on her head. The effect was immediate. It shot up as soon as she disappeared and snarled in genuine anger. Gone was the irritating beast of before and in its place was a demon with deadly intent. Reaching down, it grasped handfuls of dirt which solidified into small, sharp daggers of compressed dirt and tiny stones before whirling round and sniffing at the air. Its gaze zeroed in on where Annabeth stood. It charged her and knocked her down by her knees. She gave it a desperate swipe with her knife before rolling over as it scratched at her calves. Blood spurted from where one knife nicked her and she wrestled it to the ground.

“Why did you attack? Why are you so angry?” The questioned in desperation – the change had been so sudden.

“Myrddin.” It snarled with crazed eyes and lunged at her with its dagger having wrangled one arm free. She slashed out with her knife and caught its chest in a full swipe. Silt and dirt poured from the wound before it collapsed on the ground living a small pile of stones in its wake where a thistle was rapidly growing through.

She ran back to the Big House immediately. The thing had gotten past the boundary and was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Chiron needed to know immediately.

Once she’d described it to him, he sat with a thoughtful face before finally sighing. “A Coblynau.”

“A what?” She’d never heard of it before.

“You’re sure it said ‘Myrddin’?” He pushed. He seemed intent on her answer.

“Yes, yes I think so.” She answered flustered.

He sat back in his wheelchair and let out a long breath of air.

“Then it was far from its home. They’re from the United Kingdom and usually stick to the Welsh settlements in America. I haven’t seen one in centuries. Something must be waking them.” He mused.

“So, it wasn’t a monster?” Annabeth questioned, suddenly horrified that she’d killed something innocent.

“Oh, no, definitely a monster. Just not one of ours.” Chiron responded. At that moment Mr D shambled through the door.

“Amy! What are you doing here?”

“ _Annabeth_ has just informed me that a Coblynau attacked her in the forest.” Chiron responded, eying Mr D in disapproval.

“One of the little Welsh thingies?” He questioned his eyes glowing purple in anger. “Bloody Emrys!” He roared crumpling his coke can with his fist before throwing it to the ground where it burst into flames and storming out.

Annabeth watched him go, shaken. She’d never seen him look so enraged. Chiron watched him go, his face unreadable. Finally, he turned to Annabeth and rose from his wheelchair standing to his full height, his tail swishing in agitation behind him.

“Come with me, we must inspect the boundary and inform the other cabin counsellors.”

Annabeth nodded hurriedly and rushed to keep up with him as he clopped his way on the icy ground. Normally the camp wards kept the weather mild, but it had been fluctuating much more recently. They’d thought the Golden Fleece would reinforce the wards, but more and more monsters had been sneaking past it and Peleus the boundary dragon in the last few weeks. She’d caught Chiron and Lou-Ellen, a daughter of Hecate, eyeing the sky worriedly a few times. It kept her even more on edge than the reports of increasing monster activity the satyrs had been bringing back when they dropped off new demigods.

An hour later she sat around the councillors’ ping pong table massaging her temples to stop her head from pounding with the shouting happening across her. Everyone was arguing. Clarisse and Michael Yew from the Apollo cabin were arguing over weapons supplies. Connor and Travis Stoll were arguing with each other with Charles Beckendorf attempting to intervene. Silena Beauregard was speaking in a low voice with Chiron about the fluctuating wards and how advisable it was to hold Capture the Flag that night and Annabeth just wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep. Gods but she missed Percy. He was an idiot, and a seaweed brain, but he could control a room. Annabeth knew she had the respect of the other counsellors, but after the day she’d had and with the building tension that seemed to set on her shoulders like a physical weight, she just couldn’t find it in herself to stop them if they couldn’t control themselves. They were all acting like children, she thought snidely.

“Enough!” Chiron finally shouted. “Clarisse and Michael, you’ll have to share what we have. With the sudden influx of new demigods needing to train, the Hephaestus cabin can’t keep up. You have to help each other.”

“This is outrageous!” Clarisse shouted jumping up. “These new kids don’t even know how to hold a sword – why should they be given a weapon the moment they get here?”

“Because they need to learn. These are dangerous times and to be unprepared and unarmed is a huge risk.” Chiron said heavily, eying her in disappointment. “It is not only the children of Ares that must fight.” He finished.

Suddenly a huge rumble through the ground shook the whole table and the ping pong net shuddered in the centre. An enormous roar like a plane engine tore through the whole room and Chiron shot to his feet with wide eyes.

“It can’t be-“ he whispered before tumbling out the room, almost braining himself on the door lintel as he ducked through.

All the counsellors leapt to their feet grabbing their weapons and rushing after Chiron. Annabeth jammed her hat on her head for the second time that day and palmed her knife. Racing out the Big House, she came to a sudden halt at the top of the hill. All the other cabin counsellors were scattered around in various states of shock while Lou Ellen gasped up the hill and skidded to a stop beside her. There in front of them standing next to Percy Jackson, who was grinning like an idiot, was a young teenager shaking his hair out of a helmet and reaching down to help a small boy with his own, before turning and placing the helmets on the enormous motorbike behind them. Neither of those were what had everyone’s attention though. No, that honour went to the young man who was scratching Peleus’s head and just below his wings crooning in a low soothing tone to the dragon who was gazing up at the man adoringly. His tale was wagging like a dog and his butt wriggled in the air with excitement at the attention he was receiving. A rumbling was coming from his throat almost like purring. The sight was baffling.

The little boy gasped when he finally saw the enormous lizard.

“Daddy.” He said in a whisper, tugging on the boy’s trouser leg. “Daddy, that’s a dragon. A proper dragon.” The teenager looked extremely shocked himself before he stooped and plucked the little boy off the floor and settled him against his hip.

“Yes, I suppose that is. Merlin, care to tell why that dragon likes you so much? Another old friend of yours? Can it sense your butterfly wings?” He questioned dry amusement colouring his strong British accent.

 _…What_? Annabeth thought _._

“Oh no – sorry – didn’t I mention?” The man, ‘Merlin’, responded absentmindedly. “I’m a dragon-lord.” The teenager choked.

“You’re a what?”

“Mm.” Merlin hummed. “Last one left.” He grinned lopsidedly over his shoulder at this companion. He turned back to the dragon. “You’re lovely you know.” He crooned never faltering in his ministrations.

“Crikey, no wonder Ron thought Charlie would be jealous.”

“Never a quiet moment with you two is it?” Percy said from beside them. The teenager shot a long-suffering look at him.

“You wouldn’t believe.”

Annabeth had had enough. She ripped the cap from her head and stalked forwards.

“Percy, who in Hades are these people and why did you bring them?” she demanded.

“Annabeth!” He grinned in response. “They’re here to help, promise! They helped me fight off this changeling thing and Kelli the cheerleader and Harry’s got this wicked motorbike, have you seen it?” He was babbling.

Annabeth turned to the teenager, ‘Harry’, she quickly deduced as the enormous hulking silver monstrosity behind him couldn’t have belonged to the blue haired five-year-old. At least she hoped it didn’t. She crossed her arms.

“Demigods?” She questioned.

“Not quite.” He returned, grinning in an identical way to Percy next to him. In fact, now that she’d noticed it, they did bear a startling resemblance. They stood at a similar height. Both had vibrant green eyes, though Harry’s were covered by glasses and Percy’s had more of a blue tint to them. Both had messy black hair that stuck up at all angles. And both of them had darker skin tones, Percy’s more European, she couldn’t quite guess Harry’s. Clarisse also seemed to have clocked the similarities as she groaned behind her.

“Gods, there’s two of them. Kelp head’s got himself a nerdy twin. For Hades’ sake wasn’t one enough?” She groused.

Clarisse’s outburst seemed to have woken Chiron from his daze. He shook himself from where he had been staring at Merlin like he’d seen a ghost.

“Emrys!” He greeted. The name startled Annabeth - wasn’t that who Mr D had yelled about earlier?

“Chiron! Avalon, it’s good to see you, how have you been?” The man greeted in delight, patting the dragon on the snout once more before rushing over to Chiron and shaking his hand vigorously.

“Emrys, you shouldn’t be here.” Chiron said seriously. “The titans are rising. Your involvement will not help.” He carried on in an urgent tone.

Merlin – or Emrys? Annabeth wasn’t sure – sobered at that.

“I know, Chiron, I know. But I promised Harry I would help and you know as well as I do that the gods will not focus their power on protecting their children. They will need help to survive this.”

Annabeth bristled at that comment about the gods. Who was this man to presume something like that? Her irritation turned to confusion when she caught Harry turn to Percy.

“I can’t tell you how odd it is to meet a centaur that isn’t telling me bloody Mars is bright tonight.” He confided. Percy turned amused eyes on him.

“That happen often?” He questioned.

“If it’s not Mars, it’s bloody Pluto. Never give me a straight answer, centaurs. Yours is much better, I like him already - even if he is a bit Dumbledorey for my liking.”

Chiron ignored their muttering.

“Emrys, your involvement has already drawn a Coblynau here.”

Merlin looked shocked. “But- they have been sleeping for centuries!” He protested staring up at Chiron towering over him.

Harry’s face had darkened. “Don’t forget the Changeling too, Merlin. And didn’t Luna say something about a Goble?”

“Bogle.” Merlin corrected irritably.

Harry pressed on. “Doesn’t it seem like a lot of these things are turning up in places they shouldn’t be?”

Annabeth was almost tempted to interrupt and tell him he was in a place he shouldn’t be, but just about managed to hold her tongue. She was almost surprised at how hostile she was being to these newcomers before she brushed off the thought quickly. Of course she was! They could be the enemy!

“But Morgana controls all the Dark creatures.” Merlin stuttered. “And she can’t be awake again – I would have felt it.” Harry looked like he’d just had an epiphany, and not a good one.

“Would you?” He questioned grimly. “We’re both cut off from the land here, our power doesn’t link to the ground like back home. She easily could have woken with us missing it. Didn’t you say that she herself doesn’t affect the Balance too much by herself?”

“No.” Merlin looked pale and shaken. “She can’t have. She can’t.”

“We can’t count out the option. In my experience, everything that can go wrong, will.”

“You’re not as wise as you think you are. She hasn’t woken if I say she hasn’t.” Merlin snarled at Harry, his face contorted in fury. Harry took a step back in shock before his face carefully blanked. Annabeth shuddered. She’d seen that look on Percy once when she’d asked what happened to Smelly Gabe. It was disconcerting to see it again on a face so similar.

He ignored Merlin and turned to Chiron asking in a forcibly calm voice, “Have there been a lot of arguments round here recently?”

Percy’s eyes were glancing between Merlin and Harry in concern while Chiron blinked in surprise at the question.

He shuffled his hooves, clearly not willing to pass that information on to an unknown party. Lou Ellen, surprisingly, broke the silence.

“Yes. There have.” She said looking at him and ignoring the glares of the other campers in determination.

Harry hummed. “Anywhere in particular that people are getting more worked up than usual in?” Annabeth’s mind flashed back to the ruckus earlier around the ping pong table.

Lou Ellen seemed to be thinking the same thing. “The cabin counsellors table.” She promptly responded, once again ignoring the angry noises her fellow campers were making. Clarisse in particular looked like she was about to storm up and shake the girl. Silena’s arm restrained her.

Harry nodded and thanked her. “If I were you, I’d check it for tampering.” Merlin’s face cleared and he suddenly looked incredibly guilty.

“A spell do you think?” He said tentatively.

Harry’s shoulders relaxed and Annabeth only now realised how tensely he’d been holding himself. “Yes. You back with us then?” He questioned.

Merlin shook his head. “I can still feel it playing with me, but now you’ve brought my attention to it I can fight it off. I can’t believe I fell for that.”

Lou Ellen rushed back, a root covered in tar dripping from her fingers. She threw it on the ground between them. Annabeth abruptly felt furious that she’d done that without them asking. How dare she? She wasn’t even a counsellor! She didn’t have the righ-

Harry shot a blast of fire at the thing. It screamed as it burnt, and Annabeth felt as though a fog had lifted from her eyes. She shook her head. What had she been thinking? Why had she been so angry? Her eyes widened as she realised the plant had been messing with her head and shuddered at the lingering tendrils of darkness she could feel clearing from her mind.

Lou Ellen turned grateful eyes on Harry. “Thank you, Harry Potter. That could have gone very wrong.” He smiled grimly at her.

“Not to worry. I know the signs to look for. You would have found it eventually I’m sure.” He paused, looking over all of them consideringly. Clarisse in particular seemed shocked at the change in how she felt with the _thing_ gone and had slumped back against Silena’s shoulder in an uncharacteristic display of weakness. “It might be worth checking the camp for more.”

Annabeth suddenly realised she’d seen something dripping with tar and hanging from one of the branches in the forest near the river. The realisation chilled her. How many were there hanging around the camp? Would they have ever noticed without Harry? They would have been extremely vulnerable to attack if they'd continued to divide from the inside. It was a terrifying thought. How could he possibly have known so quickly – had something like that happened to him before? And how did Percy know them? Thoughts and questions crowded Annabeth’s mind about the mysterious strangers. Circling around so fast she almost felt dizzy. Sometimes it wasn’t fun to be a child of Athena, her brain almost worked too fast for her.

Chiron bowed his head at the strangers. “It seems we are indeed in need of your assistance. Come, you are welcome here as long as you are friendly to us. We will not bear arms against you and yours.”

Merlin inclined his head in response and replied with words heavy in ritual. “Nor, will we bear arms against you and yours. Thank you for your hand of friendship.”

With that Chiron turned and led them into the camp, the campers following behind, all a bit dazed about what exactly had just happened. Percy bounded up to Annabeth and whispered in excitement.

“They’re wizards, Annabeth. _Wizards_! And you’ll love Harry’s bike – it can fly!” Annabeth turned to Percy and seized the distraction like a drowning woman would a rope. She was almost too grateful he was there to pull her out of the spiralling thoughts the remembrance of the dripping tar in the forest had produced in her.

Meanwhile a much more subdued conversation was happening between Merlin and Harry.

“Still think Morgana hasn’t risen?” Harry arched a brow at Merlin. His friend looked like he’d aged a thousand years since seeing the mandrake on the ground. Merlin’s face twisted in anguish before he settled into a grim determination.

“She’s back. Mandrakes were one of her favourite tricks back in Camelot.” He responded grimly. Casting an eye around the camp and the children milling about it he turned eyes promising retribution to Harry. “I’ll kill her this time.”

Harry shivered at the heavy promise in his tone but nodded all the same. He hefted Teddy up on his hip. Glancing down at the little boy he found he couldn’t condemn the sheer hate glowing in Merlin’s eyes. He, of all people, understood the need to finish the job.

With that, they followed Chiron into Camp Half Blood in silence.


	8. Harry becomes a human tea cart.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot chocolate and angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still own nothing!! Happy reading!

When they got back to the Big House, no one seemed to want to sit at the ping pong table.

Harry quickly transfigured it into a pig and sent it on its way; the girl who’d helped them out earlier seemed particularly pleased at that.

He turned and raised an eyebrow at Merlin who nodded and rapped his staff sharply on the ground where the table had been. A huge, round table grew into place with dark brown roots and branches twisting round each other as the table grew from the earth until it smoothed out, lines like rivers on old maps spread across the surface. He rapped his staff again on the surface and it glowed with a white light before settling. The wood now seemed to radiate a peaceful ambience normally only found on old tree stumps nestled in the deepest forests.

Harry stepped forward again. Tossing a glance over his shoulder, he sighed. “A round table? Bit cliché, no?”

Merlin shrugged his shoulders defensively. “It’s a classic design.”

“Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind next time I try feng shui.” He returned dryly. He waved his wand and several squashy armchairs plopped down around the table. “They’re not permanent, sorry, I’m terrible at conjuration, but they’ll do the job for now.”

Percy and that girl from before plopped down immediately. The girl even going so far as to burrow into the upholstery.

“It tingles.” She smiled up at Harry. Harry smiled and nodded uncertainly.

“Er- I’m sure it does.”

Once everyone was seated Chiron called them all to order.

“Emrys, Harry, you and your charge are most welcome here but I must ask – what is your interest in this battle?”

Merlin launched into his explanation. Harry didn’t comment when he glossed over their meeting with the gods but had to cough to hide his laughter when he saw Percy’s lips twitch at the gross understatement that Merlin had a 'minor disagreement with the witch-goddess'.

Percy had of course got the full rundown with live action demonstrations from Teddy, who gleefully played the parts of both Merlin and Hecate, over multiple cups of tea earlier in the day and was now very firmly looking at his hands in order to not catch Harry’s eye and lose control.

The girl jerked at the reference, though. “Hecate?” She questioned hesitantly.

Merlin nodded. “You’ve met her?”

“She’s my mother.”

Merlin chuckled weakly. “She’s a very…passionate woman.” He finally answered the girl before turning to Chiron hurriedly, eager to escape the conversation.

Harry noticed the girl looked a bit put out at her quick dismissal so leaned over and quietly informed her with a conspiratorial smile, “They have a slight feud, your mum and Merlin.”

“Do they?” She asked curiously. The way she looked at him forcibly reminded Harry of himself at a younger age, desperate for any information on his parents, and he cast around for anything he could tell her.

“It’s not my story to tell I’m afraid, but they had an _epic_ battle in the throne room. The walls were bending with the force of the magic.” Harry finally confided. He carefully omitted how bloody terrifying the whole thing had been.

“Holy shit.” Came the low reply.

Harry nodded solemnly. The girl fidgeted a bit.

“What does she – could you tell me, maybe – what does she look like?” Harry froze.

“You’ve never met her?” He winced as his shocked reply burst from his mouth.

She nodded miserably, looking at her hands twisting in her lap. Harry fought desperately to keep his temper. _That hag_ , he thought viciously. _Next time I see her I’ll shove that pole cat so far up her arse she spits furballs til Samhain._ Harry startled at his own creativity and glanced at the girl. _Perhaps not the time_ he mentally chastised himself.

He shot a look at the rest of the table to check Merlin still had everything under control. Quietly, he slid his chair near the girl and pulled out his bottomless thermos from his satchel. Teddy on his lap shuffled a bit at the movement, but otherwise still seemed occupied by staring enraptured at Chiron. To him, centaurs were only slightly less exciting than dragons. Their unfortunate lack of deadly claws and wings were made up for with the fact he could actually _talk_ to them. There was also always the option that one could just attach wings to a centaur. Claws too. Teddy filed that thought away for Future Consideration. Somehow it felt like a thought to think about away from his daddy. He wasn't sure why. Just a feeling. Harry tapped the thermos cup and duplicated it before tapping the second mug again and transfiguring it into a replica of Aunt Petunia’s finest bone china teacup, complete with saucer. Solemnly he handed the girl the mug, filled to the brim with hot chocolate and settled comfortably leaning on the arm of his chair towards her. Satisfied she was at ease and wondering if a blanket would be overkill, he finally answered.

“Your mum looks fucking terrifying.”

The girl looked absolutely delighted.

Bolstered with this success, Harry continued. “She had this big smoke thing going on around her, very Dracula, and this polecat around her shoulders. When she’d walk, she left little flaming footprints in the floor.” The girl was hanging on his every word now. “She had black hair and a fireball in one hand that had these little flame creatures in.”

“Wow.” The girl breathed out. “She sounds so cool.”

“Well, I have to admit I was too worried at the time to properly appreciate the display. Her and Merlin were really going for each other.”

She glanced furtively at Merlin at that. “Do you think he’ll hold it against me?” She asked quietly. Harry shook his head reassuringly.

“Absolutely not. If anything, he’ll be nicer to you than the others because he’ll feel bad. He’s like that.” He rolled his eyes fondly.

“Oh.” she paused. “Do you think, maybe, he could teach me some magic?” Harry looked at her in surprise.

“You have magic?”

“Not much! Just enough for little things here and there you know, turning people into toads, that sort of thing.”

“Kid – sorry, I just realised I don’t know your name, god that’s awful of me.”

“Lou Ellen” She cut in.

“Lou Ellen.” He started again, smiling sheepishly at her. “That’s not ‘not much’ magic, that stuff takes power – we used to only learn that in our last year at school.”

“Hogwarts, right?”

“Yeah – you know about the magical world?”

“Comes with being a Daughter of Hecate. I was claimed when I got my letter for Ilvermorny at eleven. It wasn’t safe to go, but I know about it.”

Harry shuffled. “So that’s how you knew my second name.” He flattened his fringe nervously, a habit he’d never got out of.

“I’ve heard about the war and everything of course, but don’t worry I won’t go all fan girl on you. We have enough crazy here that I’m thoroughly desensitised to heroes.” Harry beamed at her. Percy noticed their hot chocolate and leaned over.

“What we nattering about over here?” He whispered, eyes still on Chiron and Merlin who were now debating about scout patrols and sentry guard rotas.

“Godly parents.” Harry replied honestly. Percy winced. Harry immediately produced a mug – tapping it lightly with his finger to turn it blue – before filling it with hot chocolate and sliding it under the table to him.

“Cheers, man.” Percy muttered out the corner of his mouth. “Think they’ll visit now you two are here?” He questioned.

Harry shook his head. “If anything they’ll stay further away. Sorry.” He added.

“Dicks.” Percy blew out a breath and leaned back into his chair.

Annabeth on his other side shot him a questioning glance and he quietly nodded to his hot chocolate cradled under the table and jerked his head at Harry who was sitting looking suspiciously innocent with Teddy in his lap two seats down from her. She shot an envious look at the mug before giving Chiron her full attention. Harry’s lips twitched and he deftly poured a third mug and covertly passed it down to her. Soon the entire table, minus Chiron and Merlin, were secretly sipping hot chocolate from under the table and Harry was feeling very smug. Privately, he was glad he was able to get some cocoa into them. It had always been the best cure for dementors and that mandrake had had a very similar effect on them all. Channelling his inner Remus Lupin, Harry upped the ante and quietly levitated a chocolate biscuit into everyone’s laps as well. When they all looked at him, he studiously ignored it and started fussing with Teddy’s shoes. Someone sniggered but were quickly silenced by the others. Chiron still had yet to notice.

The centaur suddenly turned to Annabeth who had just taken a sip. She gulped quickly and answered his question with slightly streaming eyes as she fought not to cough. Chiron gave her a concerned look as Merlin mouthed over his shoulder,

“Where’s my biscuit?”

Harry rolled his eyes, snapped his fingers and dumped a party ring in Merlin’s lap. Merlin grinned before hastily rearranging his features again as Chiron turned back to him. The meeting continued.

Half an hour later Harry caved and surreptitiously passed out blankets to them all. Teddy started wriggling until he dressed him in a dragon onesie with a quick switching charm. That did derail the meeting a tiny bit when they discovered the onesie could breathe fire from the snout, but Harry quickly apologised and removed the blue bell flame charm from the hood.

When the meeting finally broke up an hour later, Harry had at least half of the counsellors’ firm and undying loyalty bought with honour through the power of illicit chocolate distribution.

As Chiron announced that Capture the Flag had been rescheduled to the following night Merlin wandered over to where Harry was hefting Teddy against his shoulder, trying not to wake the sleeping boy.

“’Don’t mother-hen’, my saggy left nut. We’ll be lucky if they don’t imprint on you at this rate.” He deadpanned.

“It was medical procedure.” Harry huffed. “That mandrake had affects very similar to a dementors so I took the liberty of providing the antidote.”

Merlin sobered at that. “Chiron’s checking for more now. They’ve already found two. One of them right in a cabin.”

Harry let out a low curse. “Damn. That means inside help.”

“A spy?” Merlin asked, discreetly glancing around.

“Must be.” Harry responded.

“Do you think they’ve worked that out?”

“They might suspect, but they won’t want to say anything in case the spy lashes out.”

“They’ll suspect each other though. They’ll be divided.”

“I know. I know. If it wasn’t so thoroughly wrong and I had any to hand, I’d be tempted to just spike them all with veritiserum and simply ask.”

Merlin shot him a withering glare.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Harry raised his free hand in surrender. “I wasn’t! It just must be easier to be the bad guys. No restraints.” Merlin rolled his eyes, satisfied Harry was joking.

“Come on, they’re doing a campfire to burn the mandrakes and have dinner round.”

“Yippee. I so _love_ singing kumbaya over the dying screams of dark magic.”

The next day dawned bright and crisp. The wards had been fixed during the witching hour the night before by Harry and Merlin and Harry had taken great satisfaction in breaking out some of Bill’s nastiest Egyptian curses on the boundary. Nothing could get in or out now without Chiron or a cabin counsellor’s permission. They’d argued a bit about that last bit, but it was simply unsafe to only have one person controlling the wards. A sentry was placed at strategic points around the wards to watch for approaching demigods in need of assistance.

With the improved weather, Percy invited Harry and Merlin down to the training grounds to spar with them. Merlin had seemed strangely nostalgic inspecting the swords and had soon tutted when he found a nick in one and settled down with a pommel stone to sharpen them. Harry settled with Teddy beside him with a tiny wooden sword of his own and a small Teddy sized scarecrow to whack. They watched Percy spar with Will Solace for a while until Harry had enough of Merlin’s huffing and told him to just go up there and ruddy _teach_ them if it was bothering him so much. Merlin turned a haughty look on Harry before clambering up and stalking over to where Percy and Will were still going. He stumbled a bit on a stray sword but ignored Harry’s snickering until he stood before Percy.

He held out a hand until a sword shimmered into appearance in his palm and challenged Percy with a grin and an eyebrow raised so high Gaius would be proud. Harry settled back on his elbows to watch the show. The sound of metal clashing rang out through the arena and Harry sat up with interest when Percy parried Merlin’s blows expertly. It was an even match. Merlin certainly had experience on his side, but he was clearly not naturally coordinated and hadn’t touched a sword in years. Percy, by contrast, had only been practicing sword craft for a few years now, but he was a natural at it. It was practically wired into his DNA and he was graceful and nimble on his feet, dodging out of Merlin’s reach and utilising a number of underhanded tricks to try and get Merlin to trip, having correctly identified balance as Merlin’s weakest point. The irony of that was not lost on Harry.

Blow after blow they went, neither of them giving an inch, and after ten minutes Percy was grinning broadly even as sweat dripped into his eyes. Merlin gave his sword a funny little flick before twisting it round and swinging it up where he promptly caught Percy’s sword in his other hand with a surprising display of dexterity. The sunlight glanced off the metal and Harry blinked at the flash before gasping in surprise. Percy had ducked in under Merlin’s arms and grabbed his shirt before falling backwards and flipping Merlin over his head in a backwards roll. He scrambled up and kicked both swords out of his hands before grabbing a knife from his belt and putting it to Merlin’s neck.

“Yield, old man?” He asked wickedly.

Merlin caught his breath and glanced up at the boy before thumping his head back against the grass. “One thousand years and I still can’t win in a sword fight without magic. Arthur would never let me live this down.”

Percy laughed good naturedly and held out a hand to Merlin.

“Good match, dude. I haven’t had a fight like that since Luke.” Merlin grinned self-deprecatingly.

“Glad to be of service. Let me know if you ever want another spar.”

“Can you teach me that disarming move?”

“Tomorrow.” He nodded before catching sight of Lou Ellen and bounding over to her, having heard from Harry she had questions about magic.

Percy ambled over to Harry. He grinned delightedly at Teddy’s systematic and focused decapitation of his tiny scarecrow and readjusted the boys grip on his sword. Teddy beamed at him before whaling on the dummy once more. Harry steadied him when the little boy briefly lost his balance and said in a mild tone,

“Careful, Ted. You don’t want to fall over and hit yourself with your own sword.”

Teddy looked outraged at the very suggestion and firmly planted his feet in the ground raising the sword to his face in a heroic pose Harry was sure was the cover illustration for a story book they’d left in Shell Cottage.

Percy watched his progress with a critical eye.

“You’ll keep him away from the fighting, won’t you?”

“Percy, if I had my way, I’d keep you all away from the fighting.”

“Why? We’re not children! We can manage.”

Harry sighed and turned to face Percy whose chin had set in a stubborn line. He wondered if he’d looked like that at the old Order meetings, stubbornly insisting he be involved despite his age, and sent a mental apology to Mrs Weasley for ever being angry at her for trying to keep him away from the war. He wouldn’t do the same to Percy, but he understood much more clearly now where she had been coming from.

“Because there are demigods on the other side.” He said softly. “And I don’t want you to have to choose.”

“Choose?”

“To attack someone who used to be a friend, or step back knowing that they could go on to hurt someone you love.”

“So, what? You want me to just…not fight? Let the titans have at it just to keep my hands clean?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I just want to make sure you know what this means and that you’re fighting for the right reasons.”

“I want to protect everyone!”

“And that's an admirable reason, I just want you to think if that's your only reason for fighting because that’s something you need to know before you do something you regret.”

“You barely know me. Who are you to say why I’m fighting or not?”

“You’re right I don’t know you. But I know that you’ve found acceptance here. A place you belong. And now the people who gave it to you are asking for the impossible because of the Prophecy and you can’t bear to let them down. I’m just saying don’t compromise who you are to suit them.”

“So what – you’re saying I’m doing this because of daddy issues?”

“What? Where did you - no!“

“My dad abandoned me and my stepdad beat on me and poor Percy’s so pathetically grateful that he’ll do anything to save the camp that saved him?! That’s what you’re saying isn’t it.”

“No! you-“

“I’m not you, Harry.” Percy hissed furiously. “Yeah, there are some weird parallels. But we’re not the same people and you don’t get to tell me what to do or what I’m thinking. You may be here to help us out of some stupid hero complex you’ve got going on and have the luxury of saying ‘no I don’t want to kill this kid’ but we don’t. We’re fighting for our lives and you don’t get to lecture me about the right or the wrong reasons.”

Percy stood up, shaking and stormed away. Harry shot up, horrified at how wrong that conversation had gone, and ran after the younger boy who was tearing through the camp. He finally caught him by the campfire and grabbed his arm.

“Percy!” He yelled.

Percy whirled round and pushed Harry hard in the chest with both hands. Harry stumbled back but stood his ground.

“Percy, you know I didn’t mean any of that. You _know_ I was just trying to help, and _you know_ I would never tell you to do anything you didn’t want to.”

Percy stood silently; his hands balled into fists by his sides.

Harry continued in a low voice, stepping forward slightly, his arms in front of him like he was approaching one of Hagrid’s Blast Ended Skrewts.

“I just wanted to tell you I was there to talk to if you needed. That was all.” He took another step. “That was all. I promise.”

Percy still stood there glaring Harry down with one of the most fearsome stares he’d ever seen. Until he lowered his eyes to the ground and finally said in a low voice.

“I don’t want to kill anyone. I really don’t.”

Harry took another step forward. Percy was within reaching distance now.

Percy sucked in a large breath and held it for a second. Some of the tension bled out of his frame and he abruptly looked absolutely exhausted and defeated.

“But it’s easier for everyone if I do it.”

Harry immediately got the sense that there was more to this. The thoughts behind that admission were the real reason for his outburst earlier. He waited silently.

“It should be me to kill Luke. Annabeth won’t be able to. Definitely not Thalia. I’m the only one who can.”

“Why?” Harry said softly, desperately wanting to understand. “Why you and not anyone else?”

“Because they’ve never killed someone before – only monsters.” Percy whispered.

Harry ran that through again. Something clicked in his brain. _Oh, Percy._ He thought sadly.

He took the final step and steered Percy by the shoulder to the logs beside the campfire. Looking around and making sure they were alone, he sent a fireball to the hearth and a low flickering flame started. Hestia’s face turned and smiled at them from in the flames before winking out of sight into the smoke from the burning logs. Harry took heart from her silent approval and took off his heavy canvas jacket tucking it around Percy’s shoulders before fishing out another from his satchel for himself and silently passed Percy the thermos to hold as he put everything back in the bag. Percy watched him do it all with unreadable eyes and slumped shoulders, mechanically handing back the thermos and taking the tea mug as Harry indicated.

Finally settled he said in a conversational tone.

“You know I killed my Defence Professor in my first year of school.” Percy looked up in shock. His green eyes standing out, livid in his pale face.

Harry hummed. “Of course, he was possessed and trying to kill me at the time so it was self defence and he was dying anyway but I still killed him.” He tilted his head peering into the flames, for all the world sounding as if he was commenting on the weather. “He couldn’t touch me you see. My mother had done a ritual and it left a protection that meant his skin burnt when he tried. When I worked it out, I put my hands on his face and watched as the skin melted away. I wouldn’t touch anyone for months afterwards, terrified it would happen again. Still sometimes freak out if someone gets a burn around me.”

“That’s horrible.” Percy responded in a low voice, staring into his mug.

“I was eleven at the time. You’re actually the first person I’ve ever spoken to about this.”

Percy breathed in and out slowly beside him.

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because I think you get it.” Harry replied simply. Percy turned white and his shoulders hunched more before he forcibly straightened them out and looked Harry in the eye.

“My step-dad’s not around anymore.” He stated baldly.

Harry cocked his head. A silent indication he was listening but wouldn’t interrupt.

“I didn’t kill him. It wasn’t me. But I might as well have.”

“Who did?”

“My mum.”

“Ah.” A beat. “Do you judge her for it?”

“No.”

“Do you judge yourself for it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, then.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to know what you’re feeling all the time.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“But that’s why you think it should be you that kills Luke and not the others?”

“I suppose so, yeah.”

“You know, apparently I have the power to disrupt Prophecies.”

Percy spilled his tea. “You-“

“Yeah, Apollo was really worked up about the whole thing. The Great Prophecy’s practically kaput now. Gave him a huge headache.”

Percy was looking at Harry like he’d never seen him before.

Harry continued. “We’re making a safe house on the Upper East Side. Merlin, me and some of my friends, for the demigods who don’t want to fight. I’m not saying you should go. I’m just saying the option’s there.”

“Won’t monsters get in?”

Harry scoffed. “They can try.” Percy nodded slowly.

“Do you mind if I tell the others about it?” He asked hesitantly.

“What do you think I’m telling you for?”

Percy smiled. The first smile since he’d knocked Merlin flat on his back. Then he grimaced.

“I’m sorry for yelling.” He said quietly.

“No problems.” Harry waved a hand. “I was much worse at fifteen, trust me. Got a bit of a reputation for yelling at people actually. Eventually my friends staged an intervention.”

“How’d it go?”

“I yelled at them.”

Percy laughed and scooted up a bit on the log next to Harry.

“Thanks, Harry.” Harry just smiled at him glad they’d finally worked things out.

That had been terrifying. Christ, he hoped Teddy wasn’t this angsty when he became a teenager. _Oh fuck, Teddy_. He shot up.

“Harry?” Percy yelled trailing after him, mug of tea carefully held so it wouldn’t spill as he ran.

“We left Teddy in the training grounds!” Harry yelled back over his shoulder.

Percy swore and sped up.

When they finally skidded into the arena, Teddy wasn’t there.

Percy called his name frantically while Harry rushed up to Will Solace who was still practicing his sword work.

“Will! Have you seen Teddy? Did he go with anyone?” Harry almost shook the boy in his desperation.

“No – no, Silena took him I think, or one of the Aphrodite girls, I don’t know where they went – I’m sorry!” Will looked stricken. “We can help you look!” He hurriedly offered, nodding at the rest of the Apollo cabin behind him.

“Please. Search everywhere.” Harry begged and tore off to the beach, the closest thing to the arena that wouldn’t have needed to pass by the campfire to get to.

Percy panted behind him, racing to keep up with Harry’s terrified pace.

“Harry! Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s fine, one of the girls is probably just showing him archery or something!” Harry whirled back on Percy.

“ _You have a spy in your camp and I can’t find my son._ ” He hissed venomously at the other boy.

“What?” He whispered.

But Harry had already torn off, leaving Percy to scramble to keep up again.

Finally, they skidded onto the Beach and looked around. Harry scanned the area for Teddy’s magical signature when he found a faint trail leading to the forest. He hared after it, uncaring of the branches whipping into his face and catching on his clothes. There was a roaring in his ears and Harry couldn't see anything but the blue magical trace in front of him, his thoughts completely blank in the face of his all encompassing terror for his son. Desperately, he followed to the faint trail deeper and deeper into the forest until after what felt like an age he burst out into a small glade right at the camp boundary.

There in the centre was Teddy, bound to a tree stump and gagged, with tears running down his face and terrified eyes fixed on Harry. Vaguely Harry registered someone else similarly bound next to him, but he had eyes only for his son. He crashed to his knees in front of the boy and frantically tore at the ropes that held him. He ripped the gag from around his mouth and Teddy’s terrified voice babbling incoherently the moment his jaw was free shot straight to his gut. Every hitch in Teddy’s breath felt like a physical blow until he finally, _finally_ got the ropes undone with shaking hands. Teddy lunged forwards and crashed into Harry’s chest burying his face in his shoulder and clutching onto his shirt like his life depended on it. Harry cradled his son to his chest and bowed his head over the shaking form of the small boy, murmuring soothing words as he carded his still trembling fingers through Teddy’s pitch-black hair.

“I’m sorry, daddy’s sorry, I’m so sorry little one, you’re safe, you’re safe, they can’t hurt you.” Over and over again he soothed, unsure if he was comforting his son or himself more.

Eventually, Teddy’s shakes subsided and the exhausted boy slumped in his arms, practically unconscious with tiredness. Harry caught him and carefully rose on weak legs, stumbling slightly as feeling came back into them with pins and needles pricking in his feet. Percy stood next to him cradling Silena Beauregard against his side, the girl in a similar emotional state to Teddy. Around them campers clustered at the glade edge having seen Harry and Percy racing through the camp and followed, sensing their urgency.

“What happened?” He questioned harshly.

Silena shook.

“What happened?” He asked again, taking a step forward in his fury.

“Harry.” A voice cautioned to his side and Harry turned to see Merlin looking clammy and shaken next to him.

“No. No. He’s right to be angry. It’s my fault,” Silena wailed. Charles Beckendorf rushed forward and took hold of her from Percy, shushing her and stroking her hair tenderly.

“I was taking him to the beach – he wanted to see the nyads – and someone snuck up on us from behind.” She burrowed her head into Charles’s shoulder, not meeting any of their eyes. “I was so -so _stupi - hid_ , we train fu- for this! I shou-should have been able to f-fight them off!” She hiccupped.

Chiron stepped forward.

“Did you see who it was?” He asked kindly.

“No, I moved around loads though, so they must have been invisible.” She said miserably, calming with Charles’s arms tightly wound around her. Unseeing to the sudden stillness in the glade that her words produced. Every eye turned to Annabeth.

She took a step back.

“No! You can’t possibly think – no!” She protested shaking her head in denial as she turned pleading eyes on Percy. For one terrifying moment he just looked at her. Until he turned to the rest of the campers.

“It’s not Annabeth. She’s not the spy.” He said firmly, meeting each of them in the eye.

“She loved Luke though.” Came a sceptical voice from one of the Aphrodite campers.

“Drew, it’s not Annabeth. She wouldn’t betray us like that.” Percy repeated firmly. The girl scoffed.

“Just because she’s your girlfriend you don’t want to believe it! The evidence is staring you right in the face!” She shouted pointing a shaking finger at the blonde girl who was looking increasingly cornered. Clamour started from all parts of the glade each person shouting their support or condemnation for the daughter of Athena who looked on the verge of tears. Chiron banged a hoof against the ground gaining all of their attention.

“There is not enough proof.” He said firmly, looking down at them all. “Nevertheless, Annabeth, I am sorry my child, but we simply can’t take the risk. I’m afraid I have to ask you to nominate a counsellor to stand in your stead at the meetings.”

Tears dripped down her cheeks as she stared at him. Mutely, she nodded.

“Malcolm.” She whispered. Percy stepped towards her holding his arm out as though to pull her into a hug.

“Thank you. I am truly sorry for this.” Chiron said gravely. He turned stony eyes to the rest of the campers. “Capture the Flag is once again cancelled. Until we find this spy, you must all be on your guard.” He swished his tail before turning and heading back into the forest.

Harry turned to Merlin beside him. “They’re playing with us.” He said furiously. “Showing how close they can get without being caught. It’s blatantly not Annabeth, but the camp is divided and has lost their best strategist into the bargain.”

Merlin nodded. “It was always Morgana’s best tactic. Divide and conquer.”

“We have to find that spy before they start a fucking witch hunt.” Harry growled.

“They’ve already started.” Came the low response as Merlin and Harry watched as Annabeth turned and stumbled through the forest in a daze. Percy’s hand hovering on her shoulder, never quite reaching out to touch her.


	9. Harry's Saving People Thing kicks in. With a vengeance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy is impulsive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing. (Another short one - it's not a habit I promise!!)

Merlin sat at the trestle table beside the campfire watching the search with a carefully blank face.

Beside him, Harry hugged Teddy to his side. He hadn’t put the little boy down once in the two days since the kidnapping and it was a testament to how scared Teddy had been that he still hadn’t complained yet about constantly being held.

Merlin had been tempted, several times, to point out that just because Teddy was named after a small stuffed bear, Harry didn’t have to clutch him like one. He'd only just managed to keep it in knowing how terrifying that had been for both of them.

The door to the Hermes cabin banged open and a dark-haired boy was escorted out, yelling and clawing trying to get at Drew who followed after looking furious herself. Spots of red decorated her cheekbones and her normally impeccable hair had come loose and hung around her face.

“You harpy!” The boy was shouting. “You flaccid uddered cow! You-”

“We have every right to search every cabin. We must find this spy.” Drew interrupted haughtily. A nasty smile spread across her face. “Unless you’re so worried because you have something to hide?”

The boy went still.

“Keep searching.” Drew sang and marched back into the cabin. The boy stormed off, body taught with tension.

Merlin’s fist slammed against the table.

“One thousand years and its all the bloody same. If it’s not witches its spies. Do they never _learn._ ” Merlin hissed. His face was still carefully blank but his eyes sparked a furious golden that fizzled and leapt to be free. 

Harry watched the retreating boys back with exhaustion setting heavy on his shoulders. “Our lot were after muggleborns and undesirables.” He said quietly.

Merlin cocked his head at him. “I’m assuming you were an undesirable?”

“Undesirable Number One.” Harry returned with a lopsided smirk that would have had Snape audibly grinding his teeth. At the time, it had been awful, but this was one of the few hurts that had faded in the time since the war. It wasn’t uncommon these days to hear the old members of the DA comparing undesirable rankings in the Hog’s Head over a few pints of Butterbeer. Aberforth still refused to give them a discount for it though.

Merlin huffed an impressed laugh. “My congratulations. They ever catch you?”

Harry tensed imperceptably “Almost.” He responded. “You?”

“So many times it’s a miracle I’m alive.”

Harry laughed. “How’d you manage that?”

“Kept confessing to save other people, but everyone thought I was too much of an idiot to be an actual sorcerer, so they kept brushing me off.” Harry was truly laughing now. Teddy huffed in annoyance at his perch moving so inconsiderately when he was trying to nap.

“That’s some deep cover you had going.” He finally gasped out.

“Oh, no. I was an idiot.” Merlin returned cheerfully. “But then that’s what happens if you basically give a sixteen-year-old ultimate power and then tell him not to use it.”

“Crikey, what was the Old Religion smoking when they chose you?”

“Gaius’s herbal remedies, like everyone else.”

Percy shuffled over to them and plopped down at the table.

“Harry, I hope that safe house of yours is big.” He said rubbing his temples.

Harry turned surprised eyes on Percy.

“That many?”

Percy nodded. “It’s a bit scary actually how many people have a grudge against the gods. It’s no wonder Kronos is finding it so easy to recruit.”

“Rough estimate?”

“About thirty and that’s just the year-round campers.”

“But that’s almost a third!”

Percy shrugged tiredly. “Most of them from the Hermes cabin. A lot of them remember Luke and don’t want to fight him. Not to mention that’s where the unclaimed kids go. They’ve got the least reason to fight in this and are jumping at the chance to duck out.”

“Good.”

“How is this good?”

“Less people fighting for no reason. Even if you’d won, they would have remembered they fought for the gods when they didn’t want to, and it would’ve come back to bite you. Trust me.” Beside him, Merlin nodded. Percy scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Fine, I guess. It just feels so weird to be telling people not to fight.”

“You’re doing what.” A voice hissed from behind them. All three turned in shock and came face to face with an enraged Nico di Angelo.

“Nico!” Percy greeted in surprise. “How are you, man? What are you doing here?”

“What the hell have you done to camp boundary?” Nico ignored Percy’s greetings. “Every time I tried to shadow travel in it gave me an electric shock. The last time really hurt.”

Harry raised a hand. “That would be me. If you’d kept trying you would’ve ended up with two heads.” Percy side eyed Harry with more than a little alarm. Harry blithely ignored him. “Why were you trying to transport in?”

“I’m a demigod.” Nico raised a challenging eyebrow.

“The demigods are at war.” Harry returned evenly.

“So why are you here? You’re definitely not one.” He turned a curious eye on Merlin and frowned. “Neither are you. Your souls both feel really weird actually.”

Harry groaned and muttered, “Point two to Neville.”

Percy stepped in. “Nico, they’re part of the Old Religion but they’re like weirdly related to the Greeks through Harry and are helping us out with the Titans. We didn’t want loads of kids to die in the battle so Harry’s setting up a safe house.”

“Finally grown a conscience about people dying on your watch then?” Nico bit out.

Percy recoiled like Nico had slapped him.

“I thought we’d been over this.” He said quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry. It just came out.” Nico replied softly, twisting a skull ring round his finger and avoiding their eyes. “Percy- would you mind actually, if we spoke?”

Percy looked a bit wary but agreed and walked off to the cover of the nearby trees with Nico. A dryad saw them coming and ran away giggling. They both ignored it.

Merlin chanced a glance at Harry. “Do you think it would be terrible of us if we listened in?”

“Completely morally reprehensible.” Harry promptly replied. “Care for an Extendable Ear?”

“What on Woden’s boggy marsh is an Extendable Ear?”

“Shush, I can’t hear them.” A crackling filled their hearing for a second until Harry and Merlin could hear Percy and Nico as clearly as though they were standing right next to them.

“Percy, you have to.” Nico was saying urgently.

“I don’t know Nico this is a huge thing to do. Are we even certain Luke actually did it?”

“How else do you explain how he’s housing a Titan in his very _mortal_ body?”

“But taking a dip in the Styx? That’s practically suicide.”

Harry sucked in a sharp breath and shared a wide-eyed look with Merlin.

“Even if he did, I don’t have to do it too. We can – we can find his mortal spot and –"

“Percy, how do you plan on living that long against someone you _can’t kill_.”

“We’ll come up with something.”

“You’ll die. Please, Percy, let me help.”

“I- Nico, thank you, really, for trying and telling me all this but I just don’t think –“

“All you need is a mother’s blessing and to think of an anchor to the mortal world and you’ll survive it!”

“What if I don’t?!”

“At least you tried and didn’t just sit around waiting for Luke to kill you.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Percy, their ship the ‘Princess Andromeda’ is heading your way _right now_. It’s crawling with monsters. If you take on the Curse of Achilles you can attack it and kill Kronos before he even gets here. You want to save everyone at camp? This is the way to do it.”

There was a whoosh of air.

“Fine. I’ll let Harry and Merlin know and then we can go.”

“Percy you won’t regret this.”

“I hope not, Nico.”

Harry and Merlin hurriedly stuffed away their Extendable Ears as Percy and Nico came back over. Nico hanging back this time and Percy’s jaw set and a determined look in his eyes.

“I’m leaving camp for a few days.” He said, jaw clicking as it shut.

“To take a dip in the Styx?” Harry said calmly.

“How did you – you listened in!” Percy accused.

“Yes, we did and I’m bloody grateful we thought to so don’t go all righteous on me, sunshine. This is madness. The Styx ritual is Dark Magic. You’re messing with serious stuff here.”

“I need to do it. If you want to save the camp -”

Harry cut him off. “Percy do you actually know why you need the mother’s blessing? Did you even give why it’s called a ‘curse’ more than the slightest bit of thought before agreeing to do something incredibly dangerous you didn’t know the slightest thing about?”

“Go on then, since you apparently know everything, enlighten us.” Percy challenged. Nico behind him was looking increasingly nervous as Harry ranted.

“It’s a trifold anchoring, Percy. You take part of your mother’s life force, tie your fate to a person of your choosing and then lock your soul into your body using the river water.”

Percy’s face bleached white at the mention of his mother.

“My mum’s life force?”

“It’s like if you drink unicorn blood. You get a half-life unless you can wash the taint of the curse off.”

Percy whirled on Nico. “Did you know this?”

He raised his hands in protest. “No! No – I had no idea. No one’s ever said that happened.”

“No one’s ever survived it long enough to find out.” Merlin piped up. Harry gestured to him with a ‘thank you’ motion.

“But – if not this, then we’ve got to do _something_ about this ship. They’re all there and we can take them out before they even hit land. I’m a son of the sea god – I can help!”

Percy started running towards the beach. Harry jumped up and handed Teddy to Merlin.

“Guard him with your life.” He growled before rushing after the younger boy who’d just let out a piercing taxicab whistle.

“Percy – don’t just run off! What are you actually planning to do?!”

“I’m gonna sink the ship. Water is my thing, I can do this I promise. And this way is better. We know we have a spy here, if I go on my own they won’t be expecting me. I’ll have the advantage of surprise and I can get myself out of there if I have to.”

“And what if there’s demigods on the ship? You going to leave them to drown?” Harry pushed, on edge since leaving Teddy out of his sight even for a moment.

“No. No I’ll save them, use the water to pull them to safety. You can’t stop me from doing this. If I’m not going in the Styx, we need to do something else to fight back rather than only sit here and watch them tear the camp apart from the inside.”

Harry looked down at the younger boy and sighed.

“How do you plan on getting there?” He asked.

An enormous black shadow covered them before a jet-black Pegasus clattered to the ground next to them.

Harry blinked. “Well it’s no thestral, but it’ll do.”

He rummaged around in his bag for his firebolt before pulling it out and resizing it.

“What are you doing?” Percy asked, turning from where he had been patting the horses nuzzle.

“Coming with you.” Harry grumbled. “If you’re dead-set on a suicide stealth mission, you’re going to have to take me with you.”

Percy gave him a look that Harry couldn't decipher, but apparently his need to start the mission won out over any lingering confusion over Harry. He hauled himself up onto the great stallion and clicked his tongue eagerly, whooping as the Pegasus took to the sky with an enormous thrust of its wings.

They planned as they flew. Harry would get on the ship using the invisibility cloak, tag all the demigods with a one-way portkey then give the signal to Percy who would flood the ship with water and sink the thing. Both of them would avoid Luke at all costs. If it went pear-shaped, they’d scarper and try again a different day.

A simple plan. Practically child proof. Nothing could go wrong. Percy said.

Harry was less optimistic.

The first part went off without a hitch. Harry landed on the lower deck covered in the invisibility cloak and tagged two demigods before even leaving the deck. The portkeys were little coins he slipped into any available pocket. Neither of them had so much as twitched as Harry crept past or noticed their little silver pocket stow-aways.

It was going so well, in fact, that Harry was seriously considering pickpocketing as a career once Teddy went off to Hogwarts. Just to keep things interesting. Harry pressed against a wall as a dracanae slithered past.

He felt weirdly as though he was in one of Dudley’s video games and he was sort of vaguely surprised when he didn’t see crosshairs appear over the monster as it passed him. He let out a breath and carried on down the hallway. Ten demigods later and Harry was almost sure he’d got them all. Surely there weren’t more than fifteen on this one boat? That was so tactically dumb to put them all in one place, Harry could hear Ron crying from across the Atlantic.

He made his way to a rail overlooking the sea for a quick getaway and sent out a final magical scan checking for humans. Thirteen. He smiled and sent up the signal.

Then cussed so hard Mrs Weasley would have had a coronary. And probably scourgified his mouth. The blue markers showing each demigod were headed his way.

He scrambled for his firebolt in his satchel and ducked as the cloak whipped from him in a great gust of wind. He made a wild grab for it and just managed to keep it in his hand but only had time to stuff it in his bag since he was now totally exposed to the huge troll- _thing_ that had somehow managed to sneak up on him. He banished his curved dagger from the fight with the changeling at the troll but the creature moved faster than Harry was expecting and dodged. Harry quickly accio’d it back so the blade spun like a deadly boomerang and swung straight into the back of the things neck. It crashed to the floor already crumbling into dirt on the wood.

Harry had a new problem. The troll’s roaring had attracted the attention of the other monsters on the deck and the one demigod who had sent the initial blast of wind at him that had started this whole mess. Harry punched that particular demigod as he ran past, two dracanae and an empousa on his tail. He had the audacity to look shocked, like he hadn’t had that coming.

Backed against a wall Harry sent a wall of fire at the approaching monsters. The dracanae wailed and shrieked and fell back but the empousa shrugged it off and sent one back of her own. Harry swore and ducked, the heat of the fireball singeing his hair as it flew past and exploded behind him, peppering him with splinters and debris Harry hadn’t had time to shield against too busy fending off her second fire ball. A sudden image of a spider in roller skates popped into his mind and he conjured some onto the empousa’s feet unbalancing her as she skidded and shot a well-aimed piercing curse at her – one of the few spells strong enough to break a monster’s skin. She looked down at the hole in her chest and burst into golden dust.

He took a moment to catch his breath and cast homoneum revelio again. They were almost on him. Time to run. He’d barely taken a step though, when he felt the whole ship lurch and shake. Ah. Percy had started sinking it then. That was- that was not good. NO! That _was_ good! The best!

He activated the portkeys cursing himself that he hadn’t made his own first. Firebolt it was then. He reached into the bag again but froze as the first demigod rounded the bend. But- they should be gone! Fuck. Fuck. They must have found and ditched the portkeys. _So not the next Roger the Dodger then._ _Fuckfuckfuckity - Non-lethal, non–lethal, non–lethal. Expelliarmus’s for all. God, he loved that spell._ There were five demigods bearing down on him, two harpys, a sheep with fangs and _holy mother of god that’s a big minotaur_. 

_Peruvian instant darkness powder? Excellent plan, Potter. Execute immediately._ He pulled it from his back pocket where he’d stashed it in case of emergencies and threw it onto the floor before turning and running through where he knew a clear space was. He had a hand on the firebolt, just about to swing a leg over and kick off, when the whole ship groaned and the floor started tipping. Harry lost his balance and crashed to the deck. _Could Percy, for five fucking minutes, just not sink the bloody ship Harry was trying to escape from._ He heard yells and screams from behind him and felt like crying when he realised he still had to get the demigods out.

A scaly hand grabbed his leg.

“Relashio!” Harry screamed but the hand was almost immediately replaced by another, and another. Harry cast a quick homoneum revelio again and saw they were all heading his way the sounds of his spells giving away his position. He started to regret the peruvian instant darkness powder as the black cloud pressing in on him completely blinded him to the monsters’ positions. He was firing everything he had at them although still hesitant to send full blasters in case he missed and hit the demigods.

Suddenly he dropped to the ground with a cry as searing cold iron clamped down around his ankle. It felt like his skin had become too small for his body and everything was shrivelling and stretching. His ankle burnt under the metal and he desperately tried to muster the energy to blast the thing off. Hands grabbed his shoulders and his head lolled to the side as they hauled him up so he was kneeling. The demigod from before, now with blood streaming down his face, raised a palm and wind burst from it to clear the black cloud from the air. The crowd parted in the middle and a blonde boy with a scar running down one cheek and golden eyes stalked towards him.

“Harry Potter.” He greeted, his voice reverberating strangely as though he were talking into a steel drum.

Harry groaned in response. Liquid fire was spreading throughout his body from the manacle on his ankle. The pain was so overwhelming he almost didn’t notice the ship shudder and lurch again. Kronos snarled and sent all the dracanae in the area to see what was happening.

Harry almost smiled. _How do you not notice your own ship sinking?_

“Do you like our cold iron?” Kronos gazed cruelly down at Harry. Harry blinked vacantly back before plastering a vacuous smile on his face.

“No, no I can’t say I do.”

“Oho! This one thinks he’s funny.” He shouted to the assembled monsters who laughed and chittered in response.

The demigods all shifted uncomfortably, one or two were gazing greedily at where Harry knelt but most seemed unwilling to meet his eye. Harry recognised the look from new Death Eater recruits when they were first confronted with the barbarity of the side they had chosen. It saddened him he’d lived to see the look again on teenagers.

“This is a great honour, Harry Potter.” Kronos continued. “That shackle is the first prototype made by Morgana herself to trap your so-called ‘Old Magic’.”

“Oh, very entrepreneurial.” Harry encouraged. “Nice idea. That’ll really give you an edge.” His mind worked furiously, shoving the pain harshly into a box. Kronos’s words finally registered in his pain and adrenaline soaked brain.

_Old magic? Just old magic? Wizard magic might just be possible._

He feverishly seized on the idea. He wasn’t nearly as powerful with that and with the handicap of the shackle it’d have to be one huge push of magic. No room for finesse. But it was doable. He could banish all the demigods from the boat into the sea for Percy in a total magical wipe out – but the backlash would be enormous. Merlin once said when he refused to use both his types of magic that they turned on each other and fought, greatly weakening him. He could feel it happening now as the cold iron trapped all the Old Magic under his skin and cannibalised it against him. Merlin would probably be completely immobilised if they ever hit him with this. But Harry’s freakishness might just save his life once again. Or not…his position as ground zero for the impact range combined with the self destructive nature of half his magic right now might just rip him apart. But he was immortal wasn’t he? Time to put it to the test.

The ship gave a huge lurch once again and Kronos stumbled on his feet, for the first time starting to look panicked. Harry made up his mind. The wave of magic would probably destroy the ship, with him on it, but it was the only way to take the ship out before Kronos worked out what was going on and started to evacuate the monsters. Harry didn’t know if there were any monsters that could fly and bloody well hoped not.

He took a deep breath and snatched for the tiny spark of magic he could feel still free in his body. He fed it his emotions and the force of the pain wracking through him, stealing the damage and destructive intent from the cold iron and honed it into a sharp point. The command was simple. Banish the people and explode. He held it tight for one long moment, like an arrow shaking on a taught bow string. And let it out with a yell. He briefly saw all the demigods slam back over the railings before everything completely whited out with an ear-splitting bang as the ‘Princess Andromeda’ exploded around him.


	10. It begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing. Thank you for reading!

High up in the sky, Percy bobbed up and down with every beat of Blackjack’s wings. He was filled with equal parts elation and fear. Elation that Harry had listened and they were actually doing something; fear that it was all going to go horribly wrong. He took heart somewhat from the fact that Harry was certain it would go terribly but was willing to go through with it anyway.

Harry was a confusing guy to have as a friend. He laughed and joked with everyone, easily sliding into a spot they hadn’t realised they’d had empty, completely one of the group, and Percy delighted that he had at last found a true friend – Annabeth didn’t count for reasons Percy didn’t want to examine too closely right now and Grover had been absent for months since he got his Searcher’s license - but then five minutes later, he’d find himself huddled around the campfire spilling his deepest fears while Harry listened, calmly pouring spiked hot chocolate into conjured mugs and hearing him without judgement.

Percy felt comfortable with him in a way he’d only in the past felt with his mum, Sally. And even there he realised he’d been distancing from her recently. He hadn’t meant to but ever since Gabe, and he’d started regularly going on dangerous quests, he found himself drifting further and further from her in an effort to not make her worry. He missed her. Harry had told him to just apologise and tell her everything next time her saw her. Percy was planning on it after they finished this mission.

So his friendship with Harry was nice – even if it was kind of weird being looked after and trusting so implicitly someone who looked barely two years older than him. That reminded him – he still had to give Harry his big canvas jacket back. Percy had been delighted that the pockets on the thing had been extended to the point you could put your whole arm in them. He was kind of reluctant to give back such an unapologetically _wizard’s_ coat.

The signal flared on the side of the boat and Percy started. Anxiously, he waited for Harry to whiz off on his broom (an actual flying broomstick!) and for the portkeys to dump all the demigods in the sea so Percy could whisk them all away. But a few minutes later, he still couldn’t see anything in the water or leaving the ship. Had something gone wrong? Was Harry waiting for Percy to start sinking the thing before he left? Unsure, Percy decided to just continue with the plan. Though, Perhaps not as destructively as he’d originally intended (one giant tsunami just swallowing the whole boat in an epic tidal wave).

If Harry was in trouble, Percy was confident he could just magic himself out, but if the demigods were involved…caution might be better. He settled on blowing holes in the ship’s hull using reinforced waves as battering rams. 

Arms raised, he began to direct the destruction like a conductor leading an orchestra and felt the power of the sea rush through him. It pooled in his gut and tingled through his body until every nerve felt alive. He had never used his powers like this before and for one impossibly long moment he felt heady with the sea’s influence on him.

The glow faded with the force of glass shattering when he suddenly realised that he still hadn’t seen Harry. Or the demigods. He leaned forward on Blackjack and flew closer to the ship.

As he approached, he began to make out little specks crawling across the surface. An enormous black cloud erupted at one end of the lower decks. _Well, there’s Harry,_ Percy grinned. But the levity didn’t last as, when the smoke cleared, someone with blonde hair marched towards a kneeling figure. His blood froze and his stomach made a valiant attempt at clawing up through his mouth at the sight. He barely noticed the sea beneath him pummelling violently at the ship in tandem with the fear thrumming through him.

He wheeled Blackjack into a steep dive, desperate to reach Harry before Kronos could hurt him.

He was a hundred metres away when it happened.

The whole ship exploded outwards and the enormous shockwave sent Percy and Blackjack tumbling through the air in a freefall. Blackjack caught them a metre from the choppy surface of the ocean and Percy shook his head to clear it of the ringing in his ears and the white static that filled his mind. As though the explosion had eroded away all other thoughts, his brain sharpened solely on to his task. Get the demigods and Harry out of the water.

This was easier said than done. The magic from the explosion hung in the air and began to warp everything. Small disks of reality would flicker and unexpectedly show a storm through them, like a TV screen or window just hanging in the sky. Percy saw a lightning bolt crackle from within one and arc sideways through the air crashing over his head into a second disk with a shower of sparks and an almighty clang, and the foul stench of burning fled to him on the mad winds. He ducked and swerved as vines dropped down on him from above, Percy assumed from one of the pocket realities – for what else could the disks be? The world was fracturing around him and it was all Percy could do to just fly straight through.

 _Why the hell had Harry done this?_ His mind stuttered. He shot through a cloud of ominously shimmering purple mist and felt his bones bend within him before he burst out the other side. That was the most disconcerting experience he’d ever felt. He needed to get the demigods out of the water stat before the whole area collapsed in on itself. He looked down and if he’d been supporting himself in the air, he would have dropped several metres in shock.

A whirlpool was forming at the centre of where the ship had been. Multicoloured fires were impossibly burning on the crests of the waves and streaking round the rapidly growing hurricane in the water. Percy finally caught sight of some demigods clutching some floating debris. He gave an almighty tug and firmed the water under them, so they ended up lying on a solid platform, before sending them skimming away to the hippocampi he had waiting about a mile out. He started seizing more and more demigods and person by person plucked them all out of the danger zone.

It was far harder than it should have been. Gone was the incredible feeling of working in tandem with the sea. The water around him now felt almost feral and the wild magic engulfing him dwarfed him in its strength. He felt like he was standing at the edge of the world, leaning over the precipice and seeing for the first time the vastness of the space beneath him.

After what seemed like an age, there was only one demigod left to go and Harry. He had to bank Blackjack to the side and barrel-roll in the sky to avoid a deadly cascade of mirror shards that had exploded above him and a red and gold swirling dervish of thousands of shreds of smoke, as fine as hairs, that came hurtling towards him. It crackled with energy as it sped past and Percy realised he was seriously running out of time. The sea underneath point blank refused to cooperate, though, and Percy was forced to fly low to the surface and reach out an arm to the last demigod, who looked as though something had smashed into his face and had blood coating his mouth and neck. He hauled the demigod up behind him and secured the guys arms around his waist so he wouldn’t fall off in the chaos.

“Did you see what happened to my friend?” He yelled over the cacophony going on around them.

“He blew up!” Came the hysterical reply.

“Yeah, no shit dude! I know he blew the ship, but did you see where he went?!”

“No! He blew up!”

Percy’s heart stopped. He harshly yanked Blackjack to a stop and twisted round so he was nose to nose with the frantic eyes of the demigod.

“What did you just say?”

“The maniac blew himself and the whole ship with him! He sent us all over the railings before the blast hit Luke and the monsters!”

“No-you can’t be – you’re wrong!”

“Just fly!” The demigod screamed. Percy turned just in time to wheel Blackjack to the side in a broken circle to avoid a column of boiling water that had burst from the sea like a solar flare.

“Not without my friend!” Percy screamed back.

“Then we’ll both die! Your friend is dead – get us out of here before we follow him!”

Percy looked wildly around at the chaos in the both the sky and the sea.

 _This must be what the deepest circle in Tartarus looks like_ , he thought terrified.

Already feeling a weight press down on his shoulders at his decision, he nodded, squeezed his knees and clicked his tongue at Blackjack who soared into the clouds, fleeing the confusion, turmoil and deadly madness behind them.

Water stung on his cheeks as the wind whipped by and Percy briefly thought it was raining before he registered he was crying.

His hands shook in Blackjack’s mane as they followed the trail of Hippocampi to the shore. The demigod behind him appeared to have gone into shock as great shudders wracked through his arms and jostled Percy in his seat. Percy didn’t say anything. He was shaking too.

Half an hour later of the worst flight in Percy’s life, they touched down on a beach near Manhattan. He dismounted from the Pegasus and started walking towards the shell-shocked demigods. Sand wrapped around his feet and held him steady, anchoring him against the knowledge of what had happened that threatened to sweep him away. His steps faltered. They all stared at each other. Absently, he noted they were all drenched and mechanically reached into the coat pocket and felt around. Percy’s hand closed around something warm and fluffy. He pulled it out and laughed wetly as he pulled out a towel.

_Gods, Harry was just a real-life wizard Arthur Dent, wasn’t he?_

He stared at the towel in his hands dumbly for a moment before silently offering it to one of the shivering demigods. He reached into the pocket and found almost enough towels for all of them. They all thanked him with chattering teeth and huddled together arguing in low tones. Percy let them and walked alone to the edge of the sea, his toes just touching the spray, staring at nothing.

Finally, a girl cleared her throat and Percy turned to look at her. She appeared to have been nominated as spokesperson as everyone had huddled behind her and Percy thought he might vaguely recognise her from a few summers ago at camp.

“Percy. Thank you.” She said. “You didn’t have to save us. Gods know Kronos wouldn’t have done the same for you. We want you to know that most of us-” Here she shot a glare at two boys and a girl who were standing slightly apart from the rest with hard faces. “were not there by choice.” Percy looked at her. “Well we were at first!” She hastened to explain, unnerved by his lack of reaction. “But then we realised what his side really meant and wanted to back out, but he wouldn’t let us. He blackmailed and threatened our families.” She looked earnestly at Percy, her eyes pleading with him to understand. She didn’t know she was wasting her time. Percy didn’t care.

“Okay.” He said.

“What?” They all seemed shocked.

“Okay.” He repeated. “Do you want to back out of the fighting altogether? There’s a safe house on the Upper East Side we’re sending people.”

“People aren’t fighting?!” Broken nose guy asked in surprise.

“Harry’s idea. He said kids shouldn’t be involved in other people’s wars.”

Silence descended, broken only by the cawing of gulls way above them and the whistling of the wind as it rushed through where they all stood unmoving, like statues of stacked stones on the beach. The girl from before broke it again.

“Harry was your friend, right? The boy on the ship?”

Percy looked at his feet, unable to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry about what happened to him.”

Percy’s hands balled into fists until he forcibly straightened them out, flexing each finger desperately trying to ignore the flailing lead ball that had settled into his chest and roared at everything. The sky. The sand. This girl. It screamed at the world.

“We’ll come with you to the safe house. We won’t fight, in thanks for sparing our lives.”

Percy nodded and IM’d Hermione to tell her he was coming with twelve demigods to the house. They waited a moment until Ron apparated with a crack onto the deserted beach and held out a ball of red string to them. Percy avoided his eye until all of them had a finger on the ball and a jerk behind his navel whisked them away.

They landed in a heap on the floor and Percy abruptly couldn’t see anything as a great brown missile hurtled into him and dark curly hair filled his vision.

“Harry! Harry! It’s the best news, guess what, guess what?! I’m pregnant! Isn’t that incredible!” She babbled and stepped back letting Percy go. Her cheeks reddened when she realised who she’d just almost choked the life out of.

“Oh – oh my goodness, I’m so sorry – I thought you were Harry – your hair is just-” She composed herself and looked round. “Where is he?”

Percy choked.

“Where’s Harry, Percy?” All he could do was stare at her. The words stuck in his throat.

The girl from before stepped forward. “He exploded the ship. Himself with it.” She explained quietly. The room held its breath.

“God, that’s such a Harry thing to do.” Ron snorted. Everyone stared at him. “What? This is like the fifth time Harry’s died. I’m not believing it until I see a body.” Percy’s heart lurched with hope until broken nose guy cut in and stamped on the growing bubble of the thought that maybe-

“Yeah, but even if the explosion didn’t um – you know – that place was literally hell when we left. Nothing could survive that. I’ve never seen anything like it – I thought I was going mad.”

A serene voice sounded from behind them all. “Prayer is not the only form of devotion.” Luna said airily staring at the ceiling. “The Witch and the Home won’t let him go so easily, I think.” Ron crossed his arms with a mulish expression.

“There you have it. Git’ll show up in an hour or so spouting rubbish about train stations, You’ll see.” Hermione looked pale and her hands trembled but she nodded firmly. She turned to the cluster of demigods in the room.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?”

“Prisoners of war.” The girl said dryly. “We were on Kronos’s side, most of us unwillingly after we realised what he was prepared to do to defeat the gods. Percy and Harry saved us after they blew our ship. We’ve promised not to fight.”

“All of you?” Ron said sceptically, eying the three that had distanced themselves from the rest of the group again. A stare off began between him and the girl with blonde corkscrew curls standing on the right side of the little unit.

“Well, I’m _sorry_ if we were willing to go a bit further to be free of the gods.” She finally burst out, unable to take Ron’s intense scrutiny.

“Tiffany, killing people isn't ‘a bit further’.” The spokes-girl burst out, stepping forward.

“The gods are willing to kill us! I say like for like! They deserve everything coming to them.” She shot back.

“That’s quite enough.” Hermione said sternly standing between them all. “Everyone who’s willing to sit the battle out, you’re welcome to stay here but I’m afraid you’re on house arrest until this is all over. Feel free to call your families and direct them here if you think they’re in danger, just ask us first so we can key them into the wards. Everyone who has slightly more _differing_ views come with me.”

“Like hell.” Tiffany sneered.

“Merlin, it’s like female Malfoy.” Ron said, as he rapidly hit all three demigods with silent stunners. Hermione cushioned their fall with a spell of her own but all the demigods in the room took a step back in alarm at the sight of the unknown spell and the slumped forms of the three teenagers. “No need to look like I just offed your cat, bloody hell, it’s just a stunner. We’re not monsters.”

Broken nose guy hesitantly spoke up. “What’re you going to do with them?”

“Shove ‘em in the dungeons.” Ron said cheerfully.

“Honestly.” Hermione rolled her eyes in affection. “They’re not _dungeons_ , we’re just putting them in a more warded area. They’ll be completely fine, there’s food, water, a bathroom, beds. Don’t worry, we won’t keep you here like prisoners. This is first and foremost a safe house.”

The demigods were slightly mollified at that but still seemed a bit wary of the wixen in the room. All of them shot scared looks at Hermione and Ron’s wands as the three dissenters were levitated out of the room.

Eventually, Ron and Hermione had everyone dried and warm in front of a roaring fire. Luna flitted around staring intently at each demigod before naming a seemingly random number. She’d done this around five times before one demigod got up the guts to ask what she was doing.

“Oh, she’s just picking rooms for you.” Hermione said airily stirring a huge cauldron of pepper-up.

“Thanks?”

“Not to worry.” Luna smiled before her gaze sharpened on the boy with the broken nose. “I can fix that, you know.”

“Er- I’m alright thanks.”

“I’m really very good at the spell.”

“Well, erm, alright then, go ahead.”

Luna beamed at him before jabbing her wand at his face in a sharp motion and saying, “Episky.” A loud pop echoed through the room and the boy cried out before he blinked in surprise, his fingers tentatively feeling his nose.

“It’s fixed!”

“Would you like me to clean the blood as well?”

“Yes, please.” The boy nodded eagerly, gazing up at Luna with dreamy eyes.

Ron sniggered at the sight and unsuccessfully tried to cover it with a cough, from where he was measuring out ingredients for Hermione, one hand on her lower back whenever he didn’t need both for chopping. When the potion was done, they handed out a vial to each demigod and soon the room was filled with steam pouring from everyone’s ears. Using the general ruckus as a distraction, Ron sat down beside Percy and turned his head to him seriously.

“Percy, it’ll start soon. You know that, right?”

“Start?” Percy asked confused.

“The final battle. You dealt them a huge blow by blowing up the ship. But you and I both know Kronos is slippery enough to escape that. They think with Harry gone, they’ll have the advantage. They’ll be gathering forces as we speak. You need to make sure your allies are ready.”

“Allies?”

“Please tell me you have allies.”

“Um, well yes, I mean – there’s always the Hunters and Chiron was going to round up the Party Ponies, but I don’t know how well that’s going.”

Ron let out a low curse. “Percy, think. Is there anyone else you can call that you’re happy to have fight, anyone who might know someone else?”

Percy racked his brains until like a bolt of lightning he remembered the one other person who knew about everything and might just have the resources to help.

“Rachel!” He yelled in triumph. Everyone turned to look at him and he waved them back to their conversations until he turned to Ron, practically vibrating with excitement.

“I need to use your phone.” Ron had a proud smile on his face and Percy felt a warm glow in his chest. It ached a bit when he realised that’s how Harry sometimes looked at him, but he used that ache to spur him on.

Ron slapped his knees before hauling himself up and leading Percy to an old-fashioned dial phone. Percy eyed it doubtfully, slanting his eyes to Ron in question, who shrugged.

“Wizards.” Was all he offered in response before walking off back to the main room. Percy hesitated, trying to remember Rachel’s number until he just decided to go for it.

The tone beeped twice.

“Hello?” Percy sagged against the wall in relief.

“Hey, Rachel? It’s Percy.”

“Percy?! Oh, thank god! Listen, the weirdest things have been happening to me. I think I’m going mad, or I’ve joined a cult by accident, or I don’t know. _Something_.”

“…what?”

“It’s ridiculous! I keep getting the strangest urges to walk up to random people on the street. Something about them just leads me to them, and then suddenly I’m standing in front of them and I always say, “Kronos is rising.” And then I’m like, _shit_ , because you don’t just say that to anyone but they all react with like ‘how do you know?’ or something vaguely threatening and then everything goes a bit green and apparently my eyes glow – my eyes _glow_ , Percy – and then I say, “Do you stand with the gods?” And they all say yes and then give me their number or a way to contact them, although one guy in a purple shirt told me to go away, he was very rude, but then can you blame him? I’m going nuts! There’s a group chat and everything full of people I’ve just accosted in the street! Percy? Percy? You still there?”

Percy felt like he’d just been whacked over the head with Clarisse’s electric spear. Several times.

“How old were they?” He asked urgently, clutching the receiver like a lifeline.

“I don’t know? Twenty something? Oldest seemed around thirty.”

“Gods. Gods. Rachel. You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“Percy, I don’t think you heard me-“

“No, no I heard you. You’ve rallied the older demigods. I didn’t even realise there _were_ any! But of course there are! How thick can I be?!”

“Oh, is _that_ what I’ve done? Why on earth did I do that?”

“Worry about that later. For now, keep doing what you’re doing and message your, um, groupchat, and say it’s starting and to be ready.”

A pause. “Shall I tell your mum that too? You’ve missed loads of school, Percy. She’s pretending she’s not but her and Paul are worried.”

Percy ran a shaking hand down his face. “Yeah, tell her I’m sorry, but it’ll be over soon and to get out of the city for a while. Maybe head to Montauk?”

“Why does she need to get out of the city? Percy Jackson, you tell me right now what’s happening.”

“We just blew up a huge part of Kronos’s army and Ron reckons that’ll jumpstart the final battle. We don’t know where that’s going to be but I can’t risk it being anywhere near mum and Paul, and if they go straight for Olympus at the Empire State building, she’ll be in danger.”

“What about everyone else?”

“I don’t know. We can’t just evacuate the whole of Manhattan.”

“No. I guess we can’t…” She paused and Percy heard muttering on the other end of the line. “But I might be able to get a few people out.”

“What? How?”

“Leave that to me.” Percy heard his name being called from the other room.

“Listen, Rachel you’re a life saver, I’ve got to go, but _thank you_. You’re not going mad, you’re being brilliant.”

“Of course I am, Percy. Stay safe.”

“You too.”

“Percy- I-“ she hesitated.

“What?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just… be careful.”

“I always am, you know me. Look after yourself and see you soon.”

The line cut off and he hurried back to the main room, buoyed by the conversation with Rachel and the promise of allies. He stopped when he saw an iris message shimmering in the middle of the room stretching in front of everyone. Percy hurriedly fished out a drachma and tossed it into the rainbow.

Merlin’s face wavered hazily into view.

“Percy!” Shouts and yells sounded behind him. “Percy! We have a problem!”

“Merlin? What the hell is going on over there?!” Percy yelled to him over the noise behind him.

“It’s a diversion! But it’s bad, you and Harry need to get over here now – bring Ron and Hermione, we need three magic users for the ritual but I need to go after Morgana- ” Merlin rushed out.

“Merlin! Merlin stop- stop!”

“What? Percy I’m in a rush, you need to get here!”

“Harry’s missing! He blew the ship up around him!”

“He _what_ – okay, okay. Bring Luna then, she’s Air too, I think. Harry’ll be fine.” Several people ran past Merlin before passing out of reach of the Iris window. Both his arms reached up to clutch his hair as he looked around the camp wildly. He leaned in and spoke in a low tone, rushing the words out.

“Percy, Morgana’s going after Excalibur. Annabeth and Nico worked it out. She knows that’s the only sword that can get past the Curse of Achilles. It’s the only sword that can kill Luke.”

Everyone in the room stilled at that.

“It gets worse.” He said grimly. “She poisoned the main water supply. Half the camp is out. They’re not dead, but they will be if we don’t fix this soon. The Apollo cabin’s doing their best and Silena confessed as the spy when Chiron went down so that’s _that_ sorted, but they won’t be able to hold out for long. We need – we need three people to do the ritual. Lou Ellen’s down as well so she can’t do it. Tell Hermione it’s the trichromatic spell – she’ll know what that means. Also, if Harry shows up before I get back tell him I’m sorry.”

His eyes began to shine and his breathing hitched. Percy stepped towards the message subconsciously trying to comfort the man through the window.

“I tried to protect him, I tried, but Teddy drank the water. He’s in the infirmary now. I have to go – I have to stop Morgana but you need to get over to camp now-”

Percy interrupted him. “Merlin. Go. We got this. Stop Morgana, we’ll deal with the poison.”

Merlin nodded looking pathetically grateful Percy had finally agreed. He made to swipe through the message before he hesitated and locked eyes with Percy.

“Harry’ll be fine, Percy. Have faith. Good luck.” He disconnected the message.

Percy turned back to the room and straightened his back.

“You get all that?” He asked.

Hermione nodded already bustling about and packing things into a small, beaded bag.

“Wait! What about us?!” One of the demigods asked.

“I’m sorry we have to go.” Hermione replied, briefly looking up from her frantic packing. “This house is warded to the hilt; you’ll be safe here.”

“But what about the other three? And our families?”

“I’ll call Neville.” Ron said firmly before turning to Hermione. “’Mione, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. And you won’t stop me. You’re starting to sound like Harry.” Ron grimaced and nodded.

“So how do we get to camp?” he asked.

“We fly, of course.” Luna said holding up silver motorbike keys and dangling them by her ear.

Ron grinned. “Brilliant.”

In Camp Half Blood, Nico stared at Teddy. Teddy stared at Nico. Teddy’s lower lip started trembling.

“No! No! Please don’t cry, please don’t cry, everything’s okay, everything’s okay, your daddy’s coming. No need to cry.” His hands fluttered awkwardly around the young boy whose face had tinged a greyish blue with creeping turquoise lines starting to shine through his skin, tracking the veins. Will Solace hurried past.

“Nico, when I said ‘watch Teddy’ I didn’t mean make him cry.”

Nico whirled round as Will dashed past again feeding as much ambrosia he could to everyone in the infirmary.

“I didn’t! He just started crying on his own!”

“Well give him a toy then! We need to keep his blood pressure low or the poison will spread faster! We can’t give him ambrosia so he’s more at risk than the others.”

“Where the hell do I get a toy from?!”

“I don’t know, make one!”

Nico floundered and did the only thing he could think of. He summoned a tiny dog skeleton and presented it to the crying boy sitting looking incredibly small on the big hospital bed around him.

“There – see – a nice…dead…doggy toy!”

Teddy stared at the toy.

Will dropped the water bucket he was holding behind him. “di Angelo.” He hissed. “Did you just give a crying five-year-old child a dead dog skeleton as a toy? Who _traumatised_ you as a kid?!”

“You said make one! I do dead things – that’s it – that’s my thing! So I made one! I thought that’s what you meant!”

“This is quite clearly _not_ what I meant. Look! The poor child is terrif-“

He cut off. Teddy was giggling, playing weakly with the tiny skeleton.

Nico turned smugly to Will.

Will just stared horrified at Teddy. “That is _so_ wrong.” He whispered before hurrying off deeper into the hospital.

“Kid, me and you are gonna get on just _fine_.” Nico said seriously to the young boy who was still engrossed in his new toy.

Hermione, Ron, Luna and Percy crashed into the ground beside Peleus the dragon.

“Luna, are you sure you’re licensed to drive that thing?” Ron asked as he shakily dismounted.

“Oh yes, it’s not so different from a gigglebug you know.”

Hermione bent over and vomited. Ron rushed over and held her hair back. Percy stumbled a bit but soon recovered.

“We need to get to the infirmary, find out what the poison is.” He said hurrying the three wixen over the boundary line, using his right as cabin counsellor to key them into the wards.

“No need.” Hermione said briskly from behind him, having recovered. “Merlin mentioned the trichromatic ritual. It’s a general cleansing. Extremely powerful and requires very specific conditions to perform. We’re lucky we’ve got them."

“You want me to take you straight to the spring then?”

Hermione nodded and they set off at a run through the strawberry fields to the next hill over and the freshwater spring that flowed there. They burst into the glade with the spring burbling innocently in front of them as they caught their breath.

“Right, take off your shoes.”

“’Mione, are you completely sure about this? You don’t want to exhaust yourself-“

“Ronald. I love you, but be quiet. I’ll be fine, now _take off your shoes_.” Hermione ordered. Ron hurried to obey and Percy took a step back.

“Now stand at equidistant points in the spring. It’s been a while since I read the instructions for this, but I think I remember most of it.” They all splashed into position. Hermione’s breathing gradually calmed and for a while they just stood there breathing in and out together. Finally, her voice echoed out, low and clear in the grove.

“Ron, feed your magic into the Earth, offer him a pure memory and ask for a boon in return.”

Ron nodded and his brow furrowed as he focused.

“Luna, float your magic into the Air, offer her a pure emotion and ask for a favour in exchange.”

Luna nodded and raised her palms to her sides. Hermione’s voice was heavy with ritual now.

“I touch palm to palm with the Wild Magics in this place and ask them for a service in recompense. Magic for magic.”

They stood there in the spring, the water splashing past their feet and to Percy, for a moment, they appeared as Ancient Beings. Tapping into the world around them, communing with life itself, they existed suspended in time, a tableau recorded in oil paint as an ancient masterpiece. Luna flickered and shimmered, her image appeared to blur and overlay on itself, Ron somehow seemed more solid and defined, grounded into the earth and immovable, and Hermione crackled and sparked, the surface of her skin igniting and glowing slightly.

It was beautiful. A greater contrast to the terrifying magic he had experienced earlier couldn’t be found. He felt the ragged edges the explosion had caused in him soothe. The remembrance of that terrifying confrontation of magic where he had seemed to stare into the abyss and the great blankness had howled back, faded slightly in his mind. Hermione let out a breath of air.

“Magic for magic. Purity for purity. Life for life. Hear us and cleanse this place.” She intoned, Ron and Luna echoing her in whispers.

The grove seemed to sigh for a moment, before a caress of warm air floated past Percy and he felt water trickle down his palm, though when he looked down nothing was there. The three magic users opened their eyes. Hermione staggered slightly and Ron darted forward to catch her, but they were both smiling.

“Er- did it work then?” Percy asked.

“Yes, it worked.” Hermione replied. “I never thought I’d get to do magic like that.” She laughed, slightly dazedly.

“Why not?” Percy questioned curious.

“It requires such specific parameters. A cursed place and a pure need for cleansing it for starters. Not to mention the individual magic types of the participants.” She huffed and batted away Ron’s dithering hands. “Come on, bottle up as much water as you can to fight the infection.”

An hour later, almost all the people who had been poisoned were on the mend. The insidious blue that had been creeping under their skin had receded and Chiron was already back on his feet. Teddy was the only one still in critical condition since he couldn’t be fed ambrosia like the others, but the Apollo cabin had him under constant watch and they were confident the little boy would pull through. Ron and Hermione sat with him with Luna wandering around the Infirmary and suggesting improvements to the interior décor to Will Solace as she went. Will was looking slightly harried but took it with good grace.

Percy retired to the Round Table with the counsellors and Chiron to inform them of the ship and Ron’s prediction the battle would start soon. When they entered the room, he had to take a moment when he realised the conjured armchairs from that first meeting with Harry had finally faded. The lack left the room feeling barren without them. He studiously ignored it and carried on laying maps out over the surface of the table and drawing up battle plans and tactics for different areas they thought likely to be attacked.

All the counsellors huddled and leaned over the table pointing out weak spots and good places for open battle. The main problem with all of the places suggested, however, was the number of civilians in the vicinity. Percy told them about Rachel and the older demigods and got several nods of approval and a clap on the shoulder from Chiron for the good news. It was decided Lou Ellen would attempt to Iris Message Artemis’s hunters to try and inform them of the recent developments.

After a while, Ron wandered in and lent a hand. He had a surprisingly devious mind and Annabeth, who had been reinstated, and the Stoll brothers soon formed a firm alliance with him coming up with several clever plans to trap Kronos’s forces with. Percy directed them to a separate table to come up with as many traps as possible that would waylay the opposing army and limit the amount of hand to hand combat they would have to engage in. He particularly like the sound of Plan 23 to animate all the statues in Manhattan and was further sold on the idea when Ron explained something similar had happened at his school to defend the castle. Apparently, it was extremely effective in battle.

It became more and more clear as the war council progressed that people were looking to Percy to make the final call for each decision. Even Chiron. The idea was terrifying and Percy felt the heavy mantle of their trust settle around him. He almost faltered before he straightened his back and bore it with pride. He would do his best to lead them all to safety. He wouldn’t make the same sort of rash decision that had led to Harry blowing up the ship and he would protect his camp. For the first time, he really understood what Harry had been trying to tell him at the campfire. Before, he _had_ been trying to prove himself. The time for that had passed though. That folly had gone down with the ‘Princess Andromeda’. Now, he was only fighting for peace.

In the corner, Ron watched Percy. He saw as the boy’s shoulders crept further and further up to his ears and he hunched in on himself as people continued turning to him for the final call. Abruptly, Percy’s shoulders straightened out and his chin went up in a determined slant. His answer came in a decisive bark so reminiscent of Harry at the final DA meetings it hurt. He smiled to himself. At last he was satisfied the camp was in safe hands.

He turned back to the conversation and caught Annabeth eyeing Percy from across the room as well. He cleared his throat and she blushed, turning away from the boy she had been looking at as though she’d never seen him before. He nodded down to the plans on the desk in front of them and she ducked her face over it, pretending she wasn’t flustered, though a light blush spreading across her cheeks betrayed her. He shared a secretive smile with her when she glanced up, seeing she’d noticed the transformation in Percy as well, and launched back into the discussion with the suggestion of several portable swamps. The Stoll brothers looked as though they had found their new Messiah. _I’ve found your long-lost younger brothers, Fred._ He thought sadly.

A hook jerked behind Merlin’s navel and he felt himself spinning impossibly fast before he crashed down onto the ground. He’d never been good at making portkeys and that one had been particularly violent, given the distance he’d had to travel. He groaned and rolled up onto one knee warily assessing the field he was lying in. Cars on the motorway far to his left trundled along and Merlin finally got to his feet. The Stone Henge rose up in front of him on the next grass rise over. He frowned and his heartbeat sped up when he saw no people milling around it. He started to run. His feet pounded against the ground and sharp pain ran up through his knees at the force of his stride, as he pelted to the ancient Circle. He felt a wave ripple through the earth under the soles of his feet and pushed himself even faster.

Finally, he burst into the outer circle and skidded to a halt, one hand on a stone to catch his balance. Morgana looked up in shock. Time stopped.

Her hair hung in soft curls around her face and waved down to her waist. Her long eyelashes framed pale green eyes and her red lips stood out, a splash of vivid colour in her pale face. Her midnight blue gown draped around her, the long sleeves flowing from her outstretched arms and making her seem like a dark angel against the white, overcast sky. Gone was the mad sorceress hiding out in a hut in the woods. Gone was the enraged goddess lashing out at her jailor. For a moment, just a moment, he felt sixteen; a serving boy seeing a princess for the first time. Tears dripped down his cheeks and Morgana frowned when she saw them.

“Merlin.” His breath hitched in his throat.

“Morgana.”

“You look young as ever.” She sounded confused. Hearing the words of the ancient language, his mother tongue, falling from someone else’s lips felt like a punch to the gut.

“Your accent hasn’t changed.” He said in wonderment, hardly aware he was speaking.

The moment was broken. “Yes, that does happen when you sleep for centuries, you miss the changes.” She snarled. A terrible thing that contorted her face and replaced the young woman with a gargoyle.

“You were tipping the Balance.” He explained desperately. For what, he wasn’t sure. Forgiveness would never be his, he knew.

“It must be broken to return magic to Albion.” She spat at him.

“Is that what you’re fighting for?” He took a step closer to where she was standing over the stone in the centre. “Is that what drives you, centuries on to continue this endless battle?”

Merlin had no idea why he was saying this. He just had to understand. _Had_ to know why Morgana, his last connection to Camelot, still burned with a bitter hatred.

For him, Morgana’s betrayal of Camelot, her murder of Arthur, her reign of terror from the boundary of the forests were a distant memory. The feelings had faded over the centuries. Morgana was the most real thing to him now about that time. Gwen was the rustle of a story book page. Gaius the fond recollection of a child-hood hero. Arthur a wrinkled photograph of an old friend, still loved, but gradually fading, the colours bleaching in the sunlight.

He loved them all still, how could he not? But it was with a sort of wistfulness. He didn’t burn with it as he once had. He didn’t burn with anything anymore. Staying with Harry and being that butterfly in Luna’s garden had been the most alive he’d felt in centuries. He was old.

He was tired.

“So, the Great Emrys still preaches for peace, does he?”

“Just Merlin to you, my lady.”

She faltered again.

“Why are you saying this? Why are you acting like that?” She became increasingly agitated, her hand quivering over the stone in which Merlin knew Excalibur lay entombed, having flung it there himself after the last time Morgana stole it from the Lake.

“I don’t want to fight you.” He said simply. Her eyes flashed.

“No – you prefer poisoning, don’t you. Did you like my return of the favour?” If he had been a younger being, the words would have cut like a knife. He sighed.

“Do you not get tired of this? Constantly fighting? To follow along as the Wheel of Fate turns around us, caked with blood?”

“Pretty words.” She crooned. “Where were they the last time you _betrayed_ me - enslaved me to sleep?”

And for the first time in a long while, Merlin _burned_.

“How dare you.” He seethed, striding towards her. “How dare you stand there and accuse _me_ of betraying _you_. You who should know better than anyone what we have lost. How alone we stand.” He faced her directly, the stone the only barrier between them. “I trap you because I have no choice. I am doomed to wait for ‘Albion’s darkest hour’ but I’ve seen horrors you wouldn’t believe. The sky rained with fire and still he didn’t wake. You divided the gods, and still _he didn’t wake_.” He laughed a mad broken sound that reverberated around the stone circle and bounced back at him echoing all the times he had cackled in despair when he allowed himself to really think about his existence. “Why must we play out our roles anymore? Fate has abandoned us - but you continue to dance to its tune.” His tone was sharp with bitterness by the end.

He stared into her eyes and no longer saw the strong determination of the woman who had merely wanted to protect everyone, he no longer saw the laughing, slightly mocking, gaze of her friendly teasing nor even the burning furore of her lust for revenge. Her gaze was fractured. Her eyes splintered into shards. He reeled back.

“What happened to you?” He whispered in shock.

“This is all I know to do. I awoke in Tartarus and gazed into the chaos. The Old Religion drives me on – my path is the only way!” She was shouting by the end, hysterical and jagged and terrifying. Her eyes returned to his and she smirked.

“Goodbye, Merlin.”

Her hands blazed golden and the stone cracked under her palm, Excalibur shooting into her hand. Merlin yelled and let out a blast of magic, driven purely by instinct, that slammed into her and sent her crashing into the stones behind her. She looked up, blood dripping down her forehead, hair a dishevelled mess around her. Her eyes flickered down to the cracked stone before she met his gaze one last time and, smirking once more, transported away in a swirl of wind.

Merlin sagged against the stones behind him and stared at his hands unseeingly. He felt like time had stretched out the whole time during their meeting and had only now snapped back into place, leaving him breathless.

Eventually, he pulled himself together and looked down at the broken stone. Furious that he had allowed her to escape with Excalibur. A glint of shining metal caught his eye. He hurtled forward and vaulted over the stone before whirling and crouching at the base of the enormous rock.

His heart stopped. There lying in the centre of Stone Henge, dirt scuffed up around it from where Merlin had slammed into Morgana with magic, lay Excalibur. Light already fading from the runes etched across the length of the sword, golden hilt buried in earth.

Shattered in two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested a 'gigglebug' was an early prototype to the flying Ford Anglia. A dodgem that Arthur Weasley lost control of while enchanting it and set loose into the wilderness around Ottery St. Catchpole where Luna then adopted it. (It's my own invention and not massively important to anything but I liked the idea).


	11. Interlude: Harry takes a holiday.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hecate, Hestia and Ganymede go mission impossible and Harry wakes up somewhere sunny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!! Real life reared its ugly head and this chapter fought me at every turn. It's a bit of a change of pace but it can't all be angst (that's what I'm telling myself at least) Thank you all for the lovely comments on the last chapter it really drove me on to get this out! 
> 
> As always I own nada.

In a small cottage in a sleepy town on the East Coast, the Goddess Hestia laughed as a heliopath played around her fingers. The Flame of the West may burn brightest in big cities, but the flame of the hearth had always burned brightest in the background. She looked into the fire again, feeling stronger than she had in decades thanks to the removal of the mandrakes and the warm campfire at Camp Half Blood. Though she had no children of her own, she had always been more tied to the fate of the demigods than her brothers and sisters were. With the arrival of Harry Potter and Merlin Emrys, the campfire had been warming each day and Percy Jackson had maintained the flame of hope by offering sanctuary to Kronos’s forces and lighting a new Hearth with the help of the wixen on the Upper East Side. It was small, only a matchstick flickering among candles, but it would grow.

Her brother, the god-king, may not like Harry Potter but Hestia held him very dearly in her heart. She looked in on him often through the fires, though she had had to restrain that particular habit since he always seemed to unerringly know when she was watching. It seemed embodying Hearth and Home in almost every action was not enough for the godling, he saw the goddess in the flame too. Had he not already sworn independence she would soon have offered him her patronage.

She whispered to the tiny heliopath who nodded and skipped into the hearth, turning it blue for a moment until an image flickered into light in the orange glow. Harry was kneeling, surrounded on all sides by black smoke. Hestia’s brow furrowed in confusion. That was no bonfire – she would have felt it. The smoke cleared and a blonde figure approached with golden eyes.

She gasped and the heliopaths fell out of the grate in fear.

Abruptly the image tilted and Kronos stumbled, looking at Harry in alarm. Harry’s lips quirked at the fear in the titan’s face. Hestia’s hand was inches from the crackling flames, stretched out in a desperate attempt to help the man whose soul danced with flames so similar to her own. Harry’s face stretched into a rueful grin and he bowed his head, collapsing in on himself. Hestia was terrified at this show of weakness. But he straightened up and flung his head back in a yell. A blast of power erupted from the kneeling figure and shattered the fire window Hestia had made. She lunged after the extinguished image with a cry.

Without making a conscious decision she jumped up and crackled out of existence leaving behind three shaking heliopaths huddling under the carpet, staring at the echoes of figures swirling in the smoke from the charred logs in fear.

Hestia appeared twenty feet above the surface of the water, the ‘Princess Andromeda’ already kindling in the water. She twisted as she fell and only just managed to land on a splintered door that tilted alarmingly with her weight. She stared around herself in horror. The explosion Harry had caused was rupturing the fabric between the very planes themselves. For a godling to have such power was unheard of.

The door under her almost flipped with the force of the crashing waves that, before her very eyes, were dipping and creasing into a growing whirlpool. Green fire seared across the crest of a wave and left a ghostly imprint of light on her vision, barring everything with glowing green lines.

“Harry!” She cried in desperation. “Harry!”

She cast around frantically until finally she caught sight of a black-haired figure lying unnaturally still in the carnage. She propelled the door forwards and caught her breath at the sight she came upon.

In the centre of the greatest magical collapse she had seen since Atlantis first sunk, Harry Potter lay spread eagled on a perfectly still blanket of water. Golden light poured from him everywhere except his ankle where mottled gun-metal grey and crimson red boiled from him and convulsed the water around it.

She darted forward and laid her palm on his forehead before transporting them back to her cottage with a flare of orange that was lost in the maelstrom of light and noise above and below the sea.

They landed on the floor with a soggy thud. She immediately lit every light in the house with a swipe of her hands and rushed to Harry’s side. Golden light was still cascading off him and was gathering in the air above, creating a ghostly Vitruvian Man that was gradually solidifying over where he still lay, arms stretched out. Terrified at the sight, Hestia did the only thing she could think to do. Mentally apologising to every adult she had ever heard warn their children not to touch the fire, she reached out a shaking hand and prodded the golden shadow. A gilded stag’s head reared from the golden chest right at her face and she stumbled back in shock.

“Hecate! Hecate!” She yelled. “Hecate! It’s magic! I need you!”

“Yes? Yes, what are you gibbering on about, you tiny arsonist?” Hecate popped into existence. She turned from Hestia following her anxious gaze and yelped in shock. “What is _that?_ ”

“Harry Potter.” Hestia answered faintly.

“Why are there two of him?!”

“I don’t know! All I know is he blew himself and Kronos up and started a Bermuda Triangle off the East Coast!”

“Did he not think that total reality collapse was a bit over-kill?!” Hecate questioned with wide eyes.

“It got the job done.” Hestia said defensively.

Hecate stared at her.

“The green fire was very effective against the monsters.” Hestia tried again.

“You really are a pyromaniac, aren’t you.” Hecate said in faux wonder. “None of this sweet little Hestia nonsense really. Oh yes I’ve got you all figured out-“

“You’re being ridiculous.” Hestia cut her off with a huff. “Can you fix him?”

Hecate made as though to continue but subsided at a glare from her sister. She squinted at the figure in the middle of Hestia’s sitting room and cocked her head in thought.

“There’s something binding him.” She finally muttered, peering through rapidly conjured mechanic goggles that magnified her eyes to a ridiculous degree through the steampunk style cylinders. She flicked one of the kaleidoscope lenses down and bent over the figure. “Yes, yes, he’s splitting because his body can’t cope. Take off the binding and the ghost will reintegrate with the whole.”

Hestia nodded as she asked fearfully, “Is it a spell binding him? Is it permanent?”

Hecate hummed and prodded his arm, snatching her hand back as a wolf’s head morphed from the shimmering shadow and lunged at her.

“No…no, I don’t think – aha!” She beckoned Hestia over. “Here see this manacle? This is divine cold iron. Very nasty, real olde magick stuff, that hippie Emrys would probably love it. That’s the binding. Get rid of that and knock the boy out for a week or so to let his magic stabilise and he’ll be right as rain.”

“Can you do it?” Hestia asked Hecate eagerly.

Hecate grimaced. “It will take Hephaestus’s forge I’m afraid.”

“What? Why can’t we just melt it?”

“The metal remembers where it came from.”

Hestia sighed and looked down at the man. She peeked at Hecate from under her lashes with her most innocent and pleading look. Hecate shoved the ridiculous metal goggles onto her forehead and narrowed her eyes at Hestia.

“Hestia…” She warned.

Hestia gave up the innocent act. “You know Hephaestus never asks questions. Zeus would never find out.”

“Hestia!” Hecate hissed.

“Oh, like you care what Zeus says anyway!” Hestia huffed at the witch, hands on her hips.

“I care if he catches me saving someone he’s very publicly stated he’d prefer dead, were it not for the Old Religion.”

“We’ll be careful!” Hestia pleaded.

“Sister, why do you _care_? I admit the strangest magical things happen around him making me not entirely averse to his existence, purely out of morbid curiosity you understand, but what’s he to you?!”

“I- he honours me.” Hestia said very quietly. “And his soul flickers nicely.” She added sheepishly.

Hecate looked at her weirdly. “I guess everyone’s got a type.” She said slowly.

“Not like that!” Hestia protested.

“Never said it was, sister dear.”

“So will you help?”

Hecate heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Fine! Fine! But if we die, it’s your fault. Pick him up, we’re going in the back way.”

Hestia smiled delightedly at the witch and bounded forward, Harry in tow, to take her arm as they disappeared in a flash of light and the sound of the air tearing.

The two goddesses stumbled out of the rip and immediately hid in the shadows of Hecate’s enormous temple as three dryads hurried past. 

“In, in.” Hecate hissed and Hestia scampered through the archway, Harry bobbing along behind her. “That golden shadow is going to draw attention you know.” She said over her shoulder to her sister.

“Just throw a blanket over him.”

“Do you want us to look like trick or treaters?”

“Not so he looks like a ghost. I’m not an idiot. Something dark so we can hide him in the shadows.”

“Just get a sack.”

“No!”

A polite knock tapped at the wooden door.

“Quick in here!” Hecate bundled Hestia and her floating cargo into the next room, past enormous shelves of bottled liquids all different colours, some glowing ominously, and stuffed them in the vast cauldron standing against the wall.

“A cauldron? Really?!”

“You wanted my help, deal with it.”

Hestia shot a withering glare at Hecate before she hunkered down in the pot and dragged a cloth over the opening.

Hecate’s fingers twitched to light a fire under the cauldron, but the more pressing matter of the unknown visitor stayed her hand.

She wrenched open the door with an overly cheery smile.

Ganymede stood leaning against the lintel staring at her with amusement badly supressed all over his face.

“Hello, Hecate.”

“Ganymede! Gosh, fancy seeing you here!”

“Quite.”

Hecate beamed back at him. “Something you wanted?”

Ganymede raised an eyebrow at her before inspecting his nails casually.

“Well _actually_ I was just wondering why you, Hestia and C-3PO were sneaking into Olympus.” He said idly. Hecate’s smile froze. “Call it nosiness, but, well, that’s strange even for you Hecate, darling.”

“C-3PO? What _are_ you talking about Ganymede? You must be imagining things again - too much wine from that cup of yours!” She laughed hysterically.

Ganymede looked at her in exasperation. “Hecate, you’d think having been a goddess of poisons for well over a millennium by now you’d have learnt how to lie decently at some point.”

“Well if you _knew_ why did you make me do it?!”

Ganymede snickered.

“You’ll help?” Hecate questioned.

“Naturally! You, dearest little Hestia and freaky golden homunculi that look suspiciously like Harry Potter? I haven’t seen a situation this promising since Giacomo Casanova escaped the Doge’s Palace via armchair.”

Hecate rolled her eyes and ushered him into the temple. He ducked past her and she peered suspiciously out of the doorway before casting every nasty deterrent spell she could think of.

She rapped her knuckles on the enormous pewter monstrosity and Hestia’s head popped over the rim.

“Ganymede! You’re helping! Oh, this is excellent!”

Ganymede was openly laughing at the tiny figure in the enormous pot. Hestia glowered at him as she scrambled out, Harry floating eerily behind her.

“What’s wrong with him?” He asked fascinatedly, snatching his finger back from where a golden dog had snapped at him where he’d tried to poke.

“He collapsed at least three planes of existence, four dimensions and possibly created a reality sink hole off the East Coast with a binding on his foot.” Hecate said briskly. “He's now doing a fantastic impression of Dolly the Sheep by cloning himself and we need Hephaestus to get it off before his magic rips him in two.”

“That’s the other side of the palace, Zeus has it in lock down, you’ll have to walk the whole way.” Ganymede warned.

“We know.” The goddesses grimaced.

“And why do we care so much? Not that I’m not fond, he is rather pretty and Emrys likes him so I’m all for it, but it seems a bit maverick for you two...” He questioned.

“Hestia’s got a crush.” Hecate returned disdainfully.

“I don’t!”

Ganymede turned delightedly to the smaller goddess.

“Hestia!”

“Ganymede, no.”

‘But-“

“No, we will not have a ‘Bacchic Night’ where we get horrifically drunk and I spill all my darkest secrets.” She made exasperated quote marks in the air.

“But you admit you have dark secrets?”

“Harry is mitosising right now!”

They all turned to look at the still glowing man.

“Hephaestus?” He said.

“Hephaestus.” They agreed.

Hestia found it worrying how efficient Ganymede was at sneaking through Olympus undetected. Hecate was fascinated by how many secret doors there appeared to be in the walls. She held her tongue, but after the mirror that only let them through if they fixed their hair, she felt she had to ask.

“How do you _know_ all these shortcuts?”

Ganymede shot her a wink.

“Janus likes me.”

“That two faced-bastard.” Hecate grumbled.

“That is sort of his MO.” Ganymede agreed lightly.

Hecate set her pole cat on him. Hestia lunged forward to cover his mouth as he yelped loudly in the echoey hallway.

“Stop it you two! Harry’s life is at stake.”

“Oh yes how could we forget, dearest darling _Harry_.” Hecate rolled her eyes and hitched up her skirts contemptuously. “Never mind how dangerous this is for us.”

“Hecate, has anyone ever told you how much of a heartless crone you are?” Ganymede questioned.

“Just because _you_ r heart’s a squishy mess for that tree-hugging pest doesn’t mean we _all_ -“

“Quiet!” Hestia hissed and bundled them against the wall as Hecate wove an illusion around them making them appear to be a strangely lopsided Laocoon statue, hiding them from the sight of Athena as she strode past.

“Daddy’s girl.” Hecate muttered at her back.

Ganymede wrinkled his nose and nodded in agreement. They disentangled themselves and hurried to the end of the corridor, Hephaestus’s forge finally in sight. Only the door to Aphrodite’s chambers lay in the way now.

“One at a time or all at once?” Hecate whispered.

“All at once, get it over with quickly.”

They sprinted past the vaulted doorway, Harry bobbing along behind like an overly large balloon and Hecate holding her nose to keep out the overwhelming stench of the love-goddess’s perfume. They skidded round the end of the corridor and peered back around the corner, their heads lining up on top of each other as they waited to see if they’d been noticed.

The door banged open and Aphrodite poked her head out. Ganymede cursed and yanked them back behind the wall. They waited with bated breath.

“That’s odd. I thought I smelt apple crumble.” Aphrodite hummed in confusion. She paused and her face slackened in terror. “Am I having cravings?” She whispered and spun on her heel, slamming the door behind her.

The three Divine Beings collapsed against the wall in relief. Hecate whacking Hestia for the home cooking smell she had forgotten to mask. They hurriedly scrambled into Hephaestus’s forge and shut the door behind them with a comforting boom. Hecate melted the lock as a precaution and they warily walked into the smithy.

They found Hephaestus in the back who took one look at Ganymede’s sheepish face and heaved a world-weary sigh.

“Who is it this time?” He asked in resignation.

“Oh come now-“ Ganymede protested. Hephaestus looked at him and he immediately stared at an anvil in fascination.

Hestia gingerly produced Harry from behind her back.

“It’s his ankle.” She offered with a hesitant smile.

“Oh my, yes indeed.” Hephaestus agreed from where he had stooped with his magnifying glass to peer at the manacle. “Very nasty, very nasty. Bang him on the table then.”

The two goddesses hastened to comply, Ganymede too focused poking at one of the hanging automaton legs from the ceiling.

Hephaestus produced a huge mallet twice the size of his head. He warmed it in the forge beside him until the corners bent and the metal glowed with heat. He hefted it over his head, staggering slightly with the weight. Hestia eyed it in alarm.

“Is that quite safe?” She questioned in concern as the forge-god swung the enormous hammer down on Harry’s foot. With an almighty clang and a clash of sparks the manacle fractured in two.

“Nice hammer.” Hecate complimented in envy. Hephaestus looked rather pleased with himself before his face settled back into its usual disgruntled scowl.

“Now get out.”

They thanked him and hurried out, Hecate blasting the lock with a sheepish look over her shoulder at Hephaestus.

“So where now?” Ganymede questioned when they were once again safe, hidden in an alcove behind a tapestry in the corridor over.

“He’ll need a space to recover.”

“He could…he could stay at my place?” Hestia offered hesitantly.

“Too easy to find.” Ganymede shot her down.

“Damn. I think I’ve got it.” Hecate grumbled

“Why damn? Surely that’s good?”

“It is, I just hate having to deal with her.”

Ganymede clicked his fingers in understanding. “Calypso!” He agreed, eying Hecate in appreciation. “That’s a good idea.”

“But won’t she have to fall in love with him for him to leave?” Hestia asked in concern.

“She loves everyone, worst case of Florence Nightingale syndrome I’ve ever met.” Ganymede waved his hands airily.

Hestia frowned at him. “It’s not very fair on her.”

“Do you have a better plan?”

Hestia sighed and shook her head. “How do we get him there?”

Ganymede winked at her. “Janus.”

Harry woke up to a pounding head and a throbbing ankle. He blearily opened his eyes but immediately shut them with a hiss against the light. Rousing himself once more, he cautiously peaked one eye open and came face to face with a stone wall.

 _Well at least it’s not King’s Cross again. That’s a relief._ He opened his other eye and looked around from his prone position lying on a pallet on the floor. _Ah, a cave. Familiar territory then._ Harry prayed to every god he gave two shits about, including himself, that he wasn’t about to be visited by some new incarnation of blue-eyed old man with a bucketful of bollocks to present to Harry with a smile and godforsaken _twinkle_ in their eye.

A beautiful young woman with coppery skin, long dark hair in a plait over one shoulder and toga draped around her so she looked like a classic Venus Harry had once had to colour in primary school, backed into the room carrying a steaming bowl of soup on a tray. _This is an excellent improvement_. _Bonus points for the food._ He mentally awarded, carefully ignoring for the sake of his sanity that he actually had a frame of reference with which to judge this particular non-death experience. _Is my death like Super Mario where you have to go through all the worlds before you win? Am I going have to go through all the Death Caves before I die? Is Princess Peach waiting for me in the afterlife?_ Harry thought, edging slightly into hysteria by the end. _100 points and the Quidditch Cup for Neville in the Harry is Weird debate._ He thought resignedly.

“You know on a scale of Merlin to Dumbledore, you are by far ranking highest right now.” He finally said out loud to the woman in the hopes she’d introduce herself and maybe offer some explanations.

“Thank you?” She didn’t seem quite sure what to make of Harry. Harry actually found that rather comforting. At last, someone just as weirded out by these situations as he was.

“You need to eat to keep your strength. You’ve been out for five days and it’s been difficult getting enough nutrients in you.” She said, settling down beside him.

“Five days?!” He yelped, sitting up quickly and immediately doubling over clutching his head in pain.

“Be careful!” She admonished, helping him sit up properly this time against the cave wall.

“Sorry, sorry, thank you.” Harry muttered. “Five days?” He questioned again frantically.

“You blew yourself up, five days is nothing when you should be dead.” She said seriously.

“Yeah tried that. Didn’t stick.” Harry replied, spooning some soup into his mouth at her insistence. “Thank you for looking after me –“

“Calypso.” She answered his prompt with a smile and a nod in greeting.

“Well thank you, Calypso.” He said. He slurped his soup in the awkward silence. Finally, he cracked. “Where am I?”

“My island.”

_Well that cleared things up._

“Right, and where, exactly, is that? You see, my godson, he’s five, and he doesn’t know what’s happened to me and he must be worried, so I have to get back…why are you shaking your head at me?”

“Harry-“

“How do you know my name?”

“Hestia, Hecate and Ganymede hid you here from Zeus to recover.”

“Why on earth did they do that? Hecate doesn’t even like me!”

“She finds magic around you interesting, I think.” Calypso offered with a shrug.

“Glad I amuse.” Harry said drily.

“It was the safest place for you after you apparently collapsed reality.” Calypso nodded her head earnestly. “Poseidon doesn’t like you very much either right now – that whole area of the sea is currently off limits.”

Harry blinked in shock.

“Damn. Well I didn’t mean to if that helps.”

“I’m – I’m not sure that does.” Calypso responded slowly, staring at him like he was a fascinating bug she had under a microscope.

“So how do I get off your island?” Harry asked briskly moving on.

Calypso suddenly found her toga hem fascinating.

“Calypso?” Harry asked.

“I- Well- You can’t.” She finally stuttered out.

“What.” Harry growled.

“Well, you can! But, there are some conditions.”

“That’s awfully brave of you to say, considering how I got here.” Harry said evenly. Calypso flinched.

“They’re not _my_ conditions.”

“It’s your island!”

“It’s my prison.” Calypso snapped furiously. “An eternal punishment. Don’t you dare say this is my fault, I didn’t even bring you here!”

“Why can’t Hecate and Hestia just come and get me out then?!”

“They’re not heroes. They can’t enter nor leave. They pushed you across the boundary.”

“What sort of entry requirement is that?” Harry questioned incredulously.

“Look, Harry, I’m sorry you’re here, I really am, but this is much worse for me than it is for you, so don’t start taking it out on me.”

“They’re not mutually exclusive things you know. We can make this into a venn diagram and both happily cohabit the ‘bad day’ spot.”

Calypso reddened in anger.

“You’re not being very nice to me.”

“I tend not to be when people are saying I can’t leave and don’t explain why.”

“I have to fall in love with you!” Calypso finally shouted.

Harry stared at her.

“I’m sorry, what?” He said weakly.

“I have to fall in love with you before you can leave.” Calypso said again miserably.

“No, no I got that. I was just waiting for the punchline.” They'd been having such a good run there. Food, bed, not a whiff of a metaphor. And then this bludger of a curve ball just rammed him in the face. Love. Of course she needed to fall in love with him. That makes sense. That's perfectly reasonable! It's not like Harry'd been steadfastly and impenetrably single for the last five years and even before that he'd never exactly been the most popular with the fairer sex. Chosen one enthusiasts and Romilda Vain excluded. Somehow he felt Calypso, the goddess, wouldn't be massively impressed with that particular moniker though.

“There is no _punchline_.” She scowled at him. “That is my perpetual punishment, doomed to love those who will always leave and never return.”

Well there went all hope he'd suddenly and inexplicably developed an auditory hallucinatory affliction. Harry looked down at himself and then back at her and wondered gloomily what the chances were that someone with messy hair, glasses, knobbly knees and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was her type.

“I don’t even know where to _begin_ with that. Calypso, you just dropped to way below Dumbledore, I hope you know that.”

“It’s the way it has to be.” She said, her eyes downcast.

Harry rallied quickly. “So you’ve had visitors before then?”

“A few. The most recent was Perseus Jackson.” She smiled wistfully.

“Hey, I know him! Great guy.” _Very tall._ Harry’s brain added unhelpfully.

Calypso shrugged. Harry didn't let himself be disheartened.

“So you get these ‘heroes’ pretty regularly then you’d say?” Harry pressed.

“I suppose one every half century or so, I wasn’t expecting one after Percy for a while.” She stared mournfully out of the cave entrance. Harry was getting a bit tired of her dramatics.

“And…how long would you say it took for you to fall in love with Percy would you say? If we were going for an average here?” Harry was well aware that he was being remarkably insensitive but dear lord he had never been so _done_ with a situation in his life. Even for him this was bizarre. Top tier nonsense of the highest calibre.

“Are you actually asking me how long it will take for me to fall in love with you?” She asked incredulously.

“Well I’m sure if ruddy _Blaise Zabini_ was here we wouldn’t have a problem! But as it is, I need to know what the average time scale of this is going to be.”

“Being _grateful_ and _gentlemanly_ to your host would be an excellent start!” Calypso sniffed haughtily.

Harry floundered. Christ this was like Cho Chang and the mistletoe all over again. Granted there weren’t small Harry Potter baubles taunting him from the corner where Dobby had put them but really, was this any better?

 _What would Ron do to impress a girl?_ Harry thought desperately. _Lie._

“Did you know I have a hippogriff tattooed on my chest?”

“ _What?!_ ”

_Ah yes, he remembered now. They still weren’t sure how Ron ended up with Hermione. And Padma Patil even now wasn’t speaking to Ron, 10 years after the Yule Ball._

Harry gave up trying to play this game.

“Look, Calypso. You’re lovely and I’m sure you’re a wonderful woman, but I quite simply don’t have time for this right now. My godson thinks I’m dead and a war is literally just about to start. I can’t be here.”

“You think I want to be here?!” She slammed her bowl down on the ground beside her. “You think I like this?”

“No, obviously not. We’re just not going to do this the normal way.” Harry shot to his feet and steadied himself as he wobbled slightly.

“What other way is there?!” Calypso raised her hands in exasperation.

Harry snapped both wands into his hands and shot her a grin. The burnt orange light from the sunset outside the cave filtered through and illuminated the contours of his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief behind the round glasses.

“Magic.”

A boat appeared on the other side of the island. Calypso didn’t mention it.

On Olympus, Zeus felt one of his bindings break.

“Hermes!” He roared. The messenger god popped into being beside him. “Find Calypso. She has broken free.” Hermes dropped his phone in shock.

“She what?!”

“Find her!” Hermes popped away.

“The council is summoned to serve judgement.” Zeus roared from the open archway of the observing tower, the whole of Olympus spread out beneath him.

When he descended into the throne room, all the council were in their places, even Poseidon, though his brother looked wearier than he had seen him in years. Hestia tended the hearth; Athena calculated the room. Hermes, alone, was absent. He stalked to his throne and sat with a commanding glare. Hermes popped back in, a terrified Calypso and infuriatingly smiling barefooted Harry Potter in tow.

“The titan traitor, Calypso, is summoned, and her accomplice the rogue godling.” Zeus rumbled.

Harry Potter dipped his head in greeting. Calypso trembled beside him.

“Plead your case.” He demanded with solemn gravitas.

“There’s a war and I was trapped on a stupid island.” Harry Potter promptly replied. Artemis twitched in anger at his irreverent tone. Zeus was astounded at this tiny being’s arrogance.

“You willingly and deliberately broke free an imprisoned enemy of the council to further your own selfish ends?” He asked in incredulity.

“There is a war? We both got that?” Harry Potter dared to reply.

“Do not twist matters you do not understand to your own petty will.” He growled warningly, the master bolt sparking at the foot of his throne.

The boy was silenced. The god-king turned to the titan temptress.

“And you, you led him down this dark path.”

“No! No! He chose this himself!” The witch protested. She, at least, upheld the appropriate respect he deserved.

“With all due respect, what sort of punishment is a love island?” Harry Potter broke in.

“My lord, he has had a trying day.” Hestia rose from the hearth. “He knows not how he sounds. He saw only one in need and tried to assist her, not knowing the consequences of his actions.” She reassured.

Zeus considered that for a moment. Godling though he may be, perhaps leeway ought to be granted as the boy became accustomed to the ways of those older and wiser, to whom he had so unwisely tethered himself. Perhaps an eternal punishment of his own was too much in this instance? Incineration by master bolt was a kinder fate to be sure. He congratulated himself on his charitable mercy. Was he not a benevolent ruler?

“I will smite you were you stand.” He stated kindly.

“What?!” The boy yelped, starting to back away from the base of the throne and pulling the girl with him.

“You do not accept my mercy?” Zeus questioned dangerously.

“How is this mercy?! I save a girl so I can get back to fighting your war and now you want to kill me!”

Zeus paused. That was certainly a novel take on the situation. But still, the boy was too dangerous, this was too good of an opportunity to remove the thorn in his side that Harry Potter had become with his influence over Prophecy.

He had just raised his master bolt to cast the strike when Ganymede rushed into the chamber, the great doors crashing against the walls with the force of his entrance.

“My lord! Typhon has awoken!” He shouted.

All the gods rose in shock.

“He’s on his way here now through the ocean.” Ganymede continued, pale faced with the severity of the news.

Poseidon cursed and flashed away. Artemis, too, left to gather her Hunters. Zeus turned to Harry Potter and the girl still cowering in the throne room.

“The Fates smile upon you today, Harry Potter. You are not worth the bolt it would take to strike you on this day of commencing battle. Do not squander this remaining life, you will yet answer for your crimes.” He turned and strode from the council room, his armour already settling to place around him with a familiar heavy weight.

Harry turned to Calypso in wide eyed shock.

“What the hell just happened.” He whispered.

“Why did you antagonise him?” Calypso yelled back. “We are doomed unless we can get Zeus to owe us a debt before he has the chance to smite us.”

“Well good luck with that.” Harry snorted. "That'd have to be one hefty debt."

“You don’t intend to find a way? You are content to die?” She searched his eyes.

“Honestly at this point I’d love to see what would happen if he tried.” Harry said tiredly. “I just want to get back to my godson.”

“Well I value my life.” Calypso returned. She squared her shoulders. “I will join the fight against Typhon.”

Harry looked at her in shock. “Isn’t that incredibly dangerous?”

“I can fight.” She returned hotly. “Centuries stuck on the same island gives you ample time to pick up a few things.”

“Still, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Calypso smiled at him. “I thank you for breaking me from my prison, but now I must earn their trust." She set her jaw determinedly.

“Be careful.” Harry squeezed her shoulder.

They’d met under the strangest circumstances and perhaps hadn’t become the best of friends as such. But much like one couldn’t fight a troll in a bathroom without forming a sort of bond, there was a certain camaraderie produced by mutual jail break that Harry felt between them. He hoped she stayed safe. She hadn’t deserved to be locked on that island.

She surprised him by wrapping him in a hug before nodding to the great doors, still hanging open from Ganymede’s entrance.

“Go find your godson.” She said softly.

Harry smiled at her and turned, walking steadily through the madly moving gods and goddesses, who were frantically preparing for battle around him. He was the only steady thing among them, continuing on with a tired tread, focused solely on returning to Teddy and holding his godson close once more. Five days was far too long to be gone, he thought sadly. He smiled at last when he reached the lift entrance and apparated away with a twist the moment the doors dinged closed. Leaving an empty elevator and the echoes of the crack behind him.


	12. Clarisse kills a horse.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry shows up, Percy has an angst-fest, Clarisse is awesome with a spear and Luna is Luna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing and am extremely tired. 
> 
> Will I get to the final battle soon? Yes, yes I will. But what's the point of doing a crossover if the characters never interact. Let me have this

Harry arrived with a crack on the frozen hill. Immediately, his skin started to goose flesh and he rapidly unrolled the sleeves of the white cotton shirt Calypso had given him and flicked his hand at his feet to conjure some boots so his feet didn’t freeze off. Shoving his hands into his armpits to keep them warm, he trudged up the hill, his hair whipping around him in the wind. Blimey, he missed his cloak but they were a bloody nightmare to conjure from nothing and big clothing was always more unstable around strong magical enchantments. Unfortunately, the wards Harry had put around the camp at the _minimum_ counted as ‘strong magical enchantments’.

He crested the top of the hill and blinked in shock at the enormous trench ploughed into the earth that cut right through the boundary line. At the end of the ditch lay his silver motorbike, covered in dirt and slowing freezing in the February chill. Harry looked at it and sighed. He knew he shouldn’t have given Luna the keys to that. Shaking his head, he carried on down into the camp and looked round searchingly for any damage or anything that looked amiss. He had no idea what had been going on while he was out, and the tight ball of fear in his chest only slightly lessened when he could see no immediate signs of a battle.

He heard a gasp behind him and turned, wand already snapped into his hand. One of the boys from the Apollo Cabin was staring at him in shock. Harry smiled hesitantly, sheepishly stowing the wand back into its holster and turned back to his path to the Big House. As he kept walking, more campers started coming out of the cabins and lining up silently to watch him. Though he knew these kids, and was exceedingly relieved to see them all fine, their silent watching eyes made his hands twitch to summon his wands. The tension and staring had him feeling like a cowboy in one of Vernon’s Westerns entering a hostile town. Idly, he wondered if the floorboard would squeak when he walked onto the Big House porch. He rounded the final bend and he stopped short, his insides seizeing up. There standing at the top of the stairs to the Big House was Teddy, one hand clutching Merlin’s jeans, eyes round and staring straight at Harry.

Harry drank in the sight of his godson in the stillness that had descended. Teddy was dressed in his comfiest, baggiest Weasley jumper, the sleeves bunched and rolled up several times so his little hands peeked out at the ends. His hair was black rather than its customary blue and his eyes were a vivid green in his stupefied face. Harry’s heart clenched when he realised Teddy looked exactly like a tiny Harry, the conspicuous lack of grey streak in his black hair providing the confirmation of his inspiration.

Teddy made a little shocked noise, like a cat that had been rudely pushed off its perch, and blinked once before his face scrunched up and big, fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He hurtled down the steps and rushed at Harry like a homing torpedo. Harry dropped to his knees and caught Teddy in a tight embrace, clutching the small boy to him and stroking the back of his head as Teddy’s tears soaked into the shoulder of Harry’s shirt and his little hands scrabbled at his chest and occasionally whacked him when Teddy decided he wasn’t sad he was _angry_ , because _where had Harry been, and what time did he call this and Teddy was poisoned and he wasn’t there and Nico gave him a doggy but it wasn’t Padfoot, and where had he been._ The complaints and accusations came out in short, gasped sentences, interrupted by large hiccups. Harry held him through it all and gently shushed him and soothed him, constantly repeating that he was sorry and he was there now and he would never do that to Teddy again, but he should have known that Harry would always come back, silly Teddy-

“No. Silly Daddy.” He was quickly corrected by a muffled voice.

“You’re right Teddy, silly Daddy, I’m sorry.”

Teddy snuffled haughtily. And buried his face deeper into Harry’s chest. When his breathing finally evened, and it appeared that the hysterics had tired him out and Teddy had passed out right there in Harry’s arms, Harry finally rose and looked at the others still gathered around.

Merlin stood beaming at them, one hand leaning against the wooden post. Luna stood beside him, smiling serenely at the sight Harry made, thin clothing a rumpled mess, ripped knees in the canvas trousers where he’d cut them kneeling to catch Teddy, face a blotchy mess from crying with Teddy. Harry’s eyes flickered across them all, desperately reassuring himself that they were all okay and that nothing horrendous had happened in his absence.

Hermione looked like she couldn’t decide if she was angry or delighted and her face was a strange contortion of the two, though her suspiciously shining eyes slightly gave her away. Harry suspected Teddy in his arms was the only thing stopping her from running over and crushing the life out of him in a boa constrictor move only marginally similar to what Harry understood as a ‘hug’. Chiron behind them all stood in the doorway, his face guarded but his relief seeped through the ancient trainer’s stoicism. Percy and Annabeth stood slightly in front of him and Harry’s eyes lingered on them briefly. Percy looked gobsmacked and slightly afraid. Annabeth had her arms crossed in front of her and a satisfied expression on her face that told Harry, if he hadn’t shown up soon, they would have had words when he finally graced them with his presence. Finally, Ron leaned against the porch railing with an exasperated expression.

“Good of you to show up, mate.” Ron said, raising one eyebrow and looking down at Harry from the porch. “What was it this time?”

Harry grimaced. “Magical cave on a hidden island.”

Ron snapped his fingers. “Classic. And for the golden snitch?” He prompted.

“Only allowed to leave through the power of love.” Harry deadpanned.

Ron’s quip died on his tongue and he looked at Harry. “Only you, mate. Only you.” He finally said, fervently.

“Thanks, Ron.”

“Anytime.” Ron cheerfully replied. Hermione whacked him on the arm. He sobered and looked down at the ground before meeting Harry’s gaze once more. “It’s good to have you back.”

Harry heard what he didn’t say. They hadn’t been sure he would be coming back. The sombre moment stretched for a while until Hermione, vibrating slightly, broke it.

“But you’re sure you’re okay? You’re absolutely one hundred percent certain nothing _strange_ is going to happen?” She asked with the experience of ten years of friendship with Harry driving her suspicion.

“Couldn’t be better.” Harry reassured. “Other than feeling a bit like a Japanese bowl, and really missing my cloak, I’m good to go.”

“Japanese bowl?” Merlin questioned, looking at Harry weirdly as though not entirely reassured that, though his body was ostensibly fine, Merlin wasn’t convinced Harry’s brain had quite made the journey back from the dead with him.

In answer, Harry rolled up his left trouser leg and showed them all the golden band that wrapped around Harry’s ankle where the manacle had been, from which small tendrils of golden lines stretched in lightning bolt threads over his skin, covering the entirety of Harry’s calf and creeping up his thigh.

Ron whistled. “Nice tattoo, mate.”

“Yeah but now I feel like one of those bowls they break and mend with gold. Feeling like philosophical crockery wasn’t quite how I imagined waking up in a Mediterranean cave with no memory and a new tattoo, I have to say.” Annabeth snorted at that, but Hermione wasn’t done.

“How did you end up in a cave?” She asked suspiciously.

“Hecate, Hestia and Ganymede apparently.” Harry replied and Merlin’s eyebrows rose in shock.

“Hecate?” He clarified in surprise, rocking back on his heels.

“I know right?” Harry shifted Teddy against his shoulder so his godson’s face was cradled against his neck. “Anyway, they took me to Calypso’s Island and obviously we broke out, so Zeus isn’t necessarily my number one fan right now. But he’s busy fighting Typhon so, you know, bigger fish to fry, bigger things to smite.” Harry waved a hand airily. Chiron and Annabeth looked alarmed. Merlin, Ron and Hermione looked amused.

“Calypso?” Percy questioned with an odd tone of voice.

“Oh, yeah! She said she’d met you! Nice girl. Anyway, she’s fighting Typhon in the hopes she can get Zeus to owe her a debt so I’m not really sure where she is currently.”

“Oh.” Percy said softly. “But she’s free? You got her out?”

Harry looked closely at Percy. The boy was looking extremely pale and whether it was from Harry’s apparent resurrection, something else that had happened at camp or Calypso’s freedom he couldn’t be sure. He knew Calypso had to fall in love with someone for them to be able to leave, and Percy had certainly left, but he didn’t know what the feelings of the other party had to be. He glanced at Annabeth beside him who was looking forcibly uninterested and resolved to speak with him about it later.

“Yeah.” He finally replied. “There were really old enchantments on the island, you just had to find the convergence by the inverse spell tracks and look at the underside of the wards to find the weaknesses.”

By the baffled expressions on everyone except the magic users’ faces, Harry assumed that only made sense to those who had either had Magical Theory drilled into them by the strident and unrelenting brogue of McGonagall or were literally Magic Incarnate. Harry was done with their questions though and wanted answers of his own.

“What’s been going on here? Anything bad? Why did Teddy mention poisoning? I had a quick look around on my way in and it didn’t look like there’d been a huge battle but have there been small skirmishes? Has anyone contacted the Hunters of Artemis yet?” Harry was aware he sounded frantic, and the tension had lessened considerably once he’d seen everyone gathered in good health in front of him, but he couldn’t help but worry.

“You’d best come inside, Mister Potter.” Chiron said seriously from the doorway. Harry’s heart sunk at the gravity on everyone’s faces. He supposed a week of peace was too much to ask for, even without him there.

They all trailed into the Big House and Harry was vaguely surprised to see no armchairs around the Round Table. He quickly flicked his wand and conjured as many as he could, pleased to see Ron and Hermione doing the same on the other side of the room but a bit baffled why they hadn’t already. He quickly zeroed in on a particularly cushioned blue one by the fireplace.

Once he was comfortably ensconced in the squishy armchair and Merlin had handed him his favourite cloak to bundle up in, Harry settled Teddy against his side and turned seriously to Percy who had flopped down beside him. Harry suspected because it was the only other blue armchair in the room. Percy wouldn’t meet his eye and Harry frowned.

“Percy?” He questioned.

“Hm?” Percy answered, the outlines of his face illuminated by the warm glow, but the rest cast into shadow as he looked into the flickering flames.

“Percy look at me.” Percy turned but stared slightly to Harry’s left, his face carefully blank.

Harry considered him for a while before he shot Hermione a look that clearly said ‘waste Chiron’s time while I sort this out’ and grinned at his friend in thanks when she rolled her eyes but immediately turned to Chiron and the others with a slight tactic change that they ought to consider before they filled Harry in.

“What’s going on?” He finally said, turning back to Percy, satisfied that everyone was busy not paying attention to them. If Percy caught the interaction, he didn’t mention it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Percy said, his eyes still fixed on a point just above Harry’s left ear.

Harry huffed. “You won’t look at me. Now I’m not a vain guy, I’m not demanding your full and undivided attention, but there’s something going on here, and I can’t help if you don’t tell me what it is.”

Percy’s face remained perfectly blank until something behind his eyes shuttered and he slammed his hand down on the squishy arm rest, the sound muffled by the upholstery, and finally met Harry’s gaze fully. Harry was shocked at the tears in Percy’s eyes. Maybe him and Calypso had been-?

“You died, Harry.” He hissed. “You died, and it was my fault.” He choked out.

 _Ah_.

“Percy-“

“No, don’t look at me like that, being all nice and stuff when it’s my fault Teddy thought you were dead for a week.”

“Percy, it wasn’t your fault.” Harry said quietly.

“Yes, it was!” Percy yelled. Everyone in the room stopped and looked at them. Harry flapped his hands vaguely at them until they turned around again and turned back to Percy who was once again staring stonily at the table. Harry cast around for how in the hell to deal with this until his eyes settled upon Teddy still clinging like a limpet, even while asleep, to Harry’s neck.

“Is Teddy angry at you?” Harry asked.

“No.” Percy ground out.

“Does anyone else blame you? Maybe Ron said something?” Harry pressed further.

“No, he just laughed and said we were more alike than I realised.” Percy shot a furious glare at the red head from across the room. Harry stifled a smile at the comment. Of course Ron would continue to bad-mouth Harry’s recklessness and self-blaming tendencies even while he thought Harry might be dead.

“He’s right, you know.” Harry answered.

“Still doesn’t change the fact I killed you.”

“Percy, for you to have done that, I’d have to be dead first.”

“Well, I could have killed you.”

“No. I could have done that to myself. I was foolish enough to get caught. I was foolish enough to choose that course of action to get out of the situation. Stop taking credit for my choices.” Harry heaved in a breath. _Change of tactic needed._ “Is that my jacket?” He let out with a whoosh.

Percy flinched and started taking it off. “Yeah, sorry, do you wa-“

“Stop stripping, Percy.” Harry said tiredly. “I just wanted to know if my thermos was in one of the pockets.”

Percy looked down sheepishly and rummaged in one of the pockets until he finally produced a slightly battered thermos. Harry sighed in relief.

“Chuck it over then, there should still be some left if the stasis charms held.”

Percy hesitantly handed the thermos over to Harry who unscrewed the lid with relish and smiled in contentment at the slightly gingery smell wafting with the steam out from the rim of the metal cannister.

“Want some?” Harry offered Percy.

“Er-“ Percy stuttered.

Harry decided on blunt honesty and hoped it worked better than it did with Calypso.

“Percy. Stop it. You didn’t kill me. I was an idiot, and that’s on me. You wanted to deal a blow to Kronos’s forces, and you did. You can’t be responsible for everyone in war. Now drink the damn tea.” He said shortly, thrusting a conjured blue mug, filled to the brim with the hot liquid at the younger boy.

Percy looked shocked at Harry’s outburst but _something_ Harry had said must have got through as he eventually smiled hesitantly and took the proffered mug. Harry nodded in approval and busied himself pouring his own, allowing Percy to discreetly wipe the tear-tracks from under his eyes. Harry personally couldn’t give less of a damn but felt that Percy might appreciate the illusion of privacy.

“Did you spike it again?” Percy asked at last, in a good imitation of his usual cheeky manner.

“It’s not spiking if it’s in the original recipe.”

“I’m gonna have one hell of an alcohol tolerance by the time I hit twenty-one if I keep hanging out with you.” Percy said drily, eying the drink in amusement and blowing on the liquid, cradling the tin mug gently in his hands.

“Shouldn’t you already, alcohol being a liquid and you being Poseidon’s kid?” Harry questioned, hunching as much as he could over his own mug with Teddy still latched against his side. The resultant effect made Harry look remarkably like Gollum, if Gollum had had a child and a penchant for tea.

Percy considered that for a long moment. “You know, I don’t know.” He finally said, inspecting the drink in speculation.

“Something to think about then.” Harry returned cheerfully, extremely relieved he’d gotten Percy passed his guilt with minimum angst. He was sure this wasn’t the end of this particular discussion, but he was hopeful the worst was over. “Just don’t tell Merlin I gave you that idea.” He added hurriedly.

Percy started slightly at the mention of the ancient warlock.

“You good there?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, yeah. It was just something Nico said earlier I was going to mention if – when – you showed up.” Percy stumbled through.

“Oh?”

“Apparently…” Percy trailed off and frowned. Abruptly he rested his mug against his knee and turned fully to face Harry. “So, Nico can see souls right, because he’s a child of Hades.” He began.

Harry nodded in understanding.

“And he always said that you and Merlin have weird looking souls, right.” Percy continued, muddling his way through the explanation of a concept he clearly only vaguely understood. “But, and here’s the thing, about a week ago Merlin and Morgana had this big confrontation and they broke Excalibur and everything-"

Harry sat up in shock. Excalibur was broken?! This was bad. Very bad. He started to understand why everyone was looking so grave. That was the only sword that could kill Luke…

“And like, that’s a big deal because we’re not sure it works anymore. But there’s something else, something we haven’t told the others yet.” Percy leaned in slightly and Harry bowed his head so they were huddled together, blocking out the rest of the room. “Apparently Merlin’s soul is changing.” Percy whispered out.

“What?” Harry looked up sharply. “How?”

“Nico’s not sure, he just says that it’s condensing and things aren’t changing out the corner of his eye anymore, whatever that means. He seemed kind of worried, to be honest.” Percy admitted.

“You’re sure Nico said ‘condensing’?” Harry asked urgently.

“Yeah, almost certain. Why? What’s that mean?”

“Nothing good.” Harry said lowly. “How many people know?”

“Just you, me and Nico, I guess. We don’t know if Merlin can feel it or not and we kind of don’t want to ask.”

“Yeah, that’s not really the sort of thing you bring up in casual conversation, fair point.” Harry agreed before his face lapsed into a thoughtful frown.

“Harry?” Percy broke in hesitantly. “What does it mean?”

Harry glanced at him before once again staring sightlessly into the swirling patterns the rising steam made in the air above his tea. Finally, he answered.

“Merlin once told me there are very few ways to change a soul.” He bit his lip in thought, still staring at nothing. “One way is to ascend where your soul either expands, or changes colour. The other is to wear it down with emotional fatigue.” Percy beside him sucked in a breath.

“But if its condensing…”

“It’s probably that.” Harry agreed heavily.

“What does that mean? Merlin’s just given up since he’s seen Morgana and lost the sword?” Percy questioned worriedly.

Harry shrugged tiredly. “Who can say? Maybe it means something else for Merlin, he’s always going on about how he’s more magic than man these days – but then he’s a cryptic bugger on his best days. Who’s to say what he really means when he says that?”

Percy nodded slowly, marginally reassured by the response with additional grumbling, free of charge, from Harry.

“All I know for certain, is that Nico should probably keep an eye on him and we should make sure the battle is evenly distributed across our forces.”

“You’re saying we can’t trust him with too much?” Percy asked shrewdly, glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m saying there’s more going on here than we realise, and we should be wary of that. Merlin’s a great guy, and one of my best friends, but he’s old and even he’s not completely sure exactly _what_ he is. It’s best not to assume anything where he’s concerned.”

Percy nodded resolutely. They sat in silence for a moment, occasionally sipping their still warm drinks and just surveying the room, content merely to sit in the others company. Eventually Harry drained his mug and screwed it onto the thermos before tucking it away in Percy’s jacket pocket again.

“Right then. Tell me everything I’ve missed.”

Percy straightened and nodded, a determined set to his jaw that hadn’t been there before. He rose and walked with a purposeful tread to the war-table in the centre of the room. Harry stared after him in surprise at the change in his friend before grimacing to himself in realisation of the cause. He and Ron were going to have words about when Percy had become the General of the Camp. _A_ _nd probably Annabeth,_ Harry added wryly in his head glancing at the girl who had seen Percy’s approach and adopted a similar bearing and air of authority.

An hour and one minor break down later on Harry’s part, and Harry had been filled in on everything that had happened while he was lying dead to the world on a beach somewhere sunny. The confirmation that Teddy had been poisoned had almost given him a heart attack and if anyone had any doubts that Teddy would be seen out of Harry’s reach in the next month, they were soon corrected. Teddy now lived on Harry’s hip for the foreseeable future. Chiron had just launched into the evacuation plans for the younger campers to safe houses across the country when a hunting horn sounded urgently through the camp.

Annabeth jumped to her feet.

“That’s a Huntress horn! Thalia!” She cried and dashed out the room, Percy hot on her heels.

They all rushed after her grabbing weapons and armour as they went. The wixen in the group spelling everything unbreakable they could. The charms failed with a few good hits but provided an extra layer of support that the campers were undeniably grateful for. Harry cast as many sticking charms to Teddy as he felt comfortable with, to make sure he wouldn’t lose the boy in the battle. There was no way he was leaving Teddy somewhere so he could go off and fight, but it was terrifying having the boy so close to hostile forces. Harry dragged his cloak round so it covered all of Teddy and cast as many repelling and strengthening charms as he could at the fabric. It was more receptive to them since it had been made with this purpose in mind and he was beyond thankful now that his paranoia had led him to that choice. Just to be safe, however, he hung back more from the rushing crowds of Greek campers and stood side by side with Hermione, ready to long distance cast.

Merlin pounded up the hill, following the still ringing hunting horn. They came across a scene of total carnage. Forty or so teenaged girls had set up a barricade just beyond the boundary line, since they hadn’t yet been keyed to the wards. Having seen more army formations and fighting styles than he would like in his time, Merlin could appreciate the impressive techniques the Huntresses were using. They were incredibly organised, and their efficient fighting style told of hours of training. A set of ten would reinforce the barricade, while another ten stood to fire arrows at the encroaching hordes of coblynau. A final ten stood behind those and covered them from returning fireballs and stone daggers. A few lone Huntresses, clearly the most experienced fighters, flitted in among the empousa horde and slashed and cut through the ranks, forcing them into disarray and making the monsters easier pickings for their comrades’ arrows. They made a terrifying fighting unit, their silver uniforms glinting in the cold light bathing the blasted hillside.

But no matter how good the Huntresses were, their enemy was matching their skill with sheer numbers easily. An immense chariot rolled up the hill on the heels of the mob in front of it, pulled by two goats with glowing red eyes and foaming mouths. Behind them, two grey, winged horses glowed with an eerie light that distorted their outline. Holding their reins was a handsome man with long grey hair flowing out behind him like a horse’s mane and mad, rolling eyes, a fearsome spear raised in his right hand. Flanking the enormous chariot were further reinforcements for the army of coblynau, empousa and other monstrous entities.

A Huntress barricade gave way. Though, they were making short work of the coblynau, every time their arrows struck the empousa, they merely glanced off the monsters’ skin. A ginger huntress appeared to be finding this particularly irritating and screamed in frustration when yet another arrow left her bow only to strike the monster but leave it unharmed.

Merlin glanced over quickly to see Harry protecting Teddy and staying back from the close-range fighting. He relaxed slightly and turned back to the melee. It was chaos and mayhem and the iron tang of blood eddied through the clashing forces and coated the frozen hill in its stench. The clang of metal on metal rang out across the hill side and the mad cackling and braying of the man on the chariot echoed through it all reverberating in the sounds of battle and making every noise seem to amplify and overlap, creating a disorientating muffling ring in Merlin’s ears.

Shaking his head to clear it Merlin decided on his target. The man on the chariot was the most dangerous. If Merlin wasn’t mistaken that was the leader of the Ceffyl-Dŵr. His slight glow and rolling red eyes betrayed his horrifying nature. He was about to move to confront the battle Chariot when the leader let out an animalistic hacking cry and brandished his spear at the main Huntress barricade. The Horses reared up and tossed their heads wildly. The Goats in the reins bucked their wickedly sharp horns and chomped at their bits. Every aspect of them oozed wildness and insanity. The Horses started cantering forwards, the Goats trampling the earth in front of them, barrelling everything out of the way with vicious force. One Huntress was butted out of the way and let out a cry as her leg broke under the force of the hit and had to be hurriedly dragged off to safety.

Merlin was running now, his hand out in front of him and the incantation already on his lips to slow down this terrifying war machine. Two girls beat him to it. One had short, spikey black hair and a terrifying shield depicting Medusa’s head gnashing her teeth from the surface of the metal. The second girl brandished a crackling spear and let out a defiant roar. The girls stood, locked shoulder to shoulder, facing the approaching Chariot. The girl with the shield braced her shoulder against the shield and angled it so it flashed in the cold sunlight. The image shone from the surface and the Goats balked at the sight, rearing against their tacking and throwing themselves to the side, unbalancing the chariot. The nightmarish pegasi behind them reared up at the disturbance and flapped their powerful wings in agitation at the tugging on their reins and threw the Chariot into further unbalance.

Thalia darted in with her spear and pierced the underbelly of the horse on her left as it exposed its stomach to her, hoofs flailing in the air in its confusion and rage. Clarisse, on her right, did the same and whirled forward, ducking under the thrashing horse and stabbing it with a vicious thrust. She wasted no time in pulling out the spear and twirling out from under the beast, ending up to the right of the man in the chariot who was snarling down in utter rage. His whole face was twisted with violence and madness. He thrust his spear at Clarisse who met the thrust with an attack of her own. The clash of blows let out a wave of power that rippled across the entire battlefield. Clarisse used the leader’s surprise to her advantage. She nimbly climbed the Chariot’s wheels, climbing the spokes until she stood in the Chariot behind the Ceffyl-Dŵr and forced him to twist awkwardly to meet her stab. An epic volley of parries and blows followed until Clarisse yelled in triumph and her spear crackled out, electricity arcing out and striking the leader right in his chest, exposed by his own unwise lunge at the shorter teenager. She yanked her spear out of the disintegrating body and used her foot to kick the amorphous mass onto the ground behind the Chariot before swiping at the reins tied to the lip of the Chariot and launching herself off the front to land in a crouch in front of the behemoth. She raised her head to Merlin’s gaping face.

“Shouldn’t you be doing some hoodoo, magic-man?!” She yelled and Merlin nodded dumbly.

A deep laugh sounded strangely faintly behind him and Merlin whipped round at the noise. A flash of gold caught his eye but when he blinked, nothing was there. When he turned back Clarisse was already gone, hacking and stabbing at a tiny enraged coblynau. Merlin shot three blue deadly spells from the palm of his hand at the empousa who were gradually herding Will Solace into a corner. Dismissing the memory of that flash of gold, thinking it must have been Will’s hair, he scanned the battlefield again and shot a myriad of other spells at the empousa which seemed to only fall with the intervention of magic. Merlin frowned at the realisation that they must have been magically enhanced by Morgana, and advanced with deadly determination. Light danced from his fingertips and he cut a sparking swathe through the Greek monsters. With the death of the Ceffyl-Dŵr and their Chariot and the gradual decimation of the empousa forces, more gathered in one place than Merlin had seen in an age, the Battle finally appeared to be turning to a victory for the Greeks. The wounded were being dragged to the safety of the boundary line and Hermione was covering the Apollo cabin with their stretchers with a steady stream of deadly spell-fire dripping from her wand.

Suddenly, a tremendous screech shook the blood-soaked grass blades of the hillside and everyone stopped, monsters and demigods both, to look at the approaching nightmare. When the hissing reached their ears, Merlin grew cold.

“No.” He whispered. “No.”

The Questing Beast rounded the top of the hill and lazily surveyed them all before its eye landed on Merlin. Its forked tongue flickered out and tasted his fear in the air and it lowered its head condescendingly to the ground, undulating across the battled field towards him, its leopard paws padding along behind the enormous head and leaving giant crevices in the earth with the weight of the beast. Merlin stood frozen watching its approach, totally paralysed by this nightmare from his past.

“Merlin!” Two voices yelled in unison. Harry’s voice overlaying with a faint echo from behind him. It snapped him out of his stupor and Merlin shoved his hand out in front of him, a stream of blue light already beaming from his palm straight at the heart of the monster before him, slamming into the herald of the Old Religion that calamity followed like an obedient dog. Merlin blinked back tears of rage and threw out his second hand. He felt his feet leave the floor with the power of the magic coursing through him and into this beast. The blue light surrounded the leviathan and it reared on its hind legs, its reptilian head reaching towards the sky, the beast suspended gracefully in the throes of death. Just before it burst into rippling and swelling white mist, the image of a glowing sword burned itself into Merlin’s eyes. He staggered as he abruptly cut off the magical onslaught. Percy, who happened to be near him, caught him and draped Merlin’s arms around his shoulders, half carrying him over the boundary line.

Peripherally, Merlin was aware that Percy was asking him something and people were talking around him, possibly to him. But his soul was filled with the image of the sword, the flash of gold, the caress of the laugh behind him and the slight overlay to Harry’s voice when he’d called out to Merlin, like blurred outlines and colours showing through a page from the drawing below, easily missable and only caught by Merlin because he once knew that voice better than he knew his own. The hole in his chest that had slowly grown since the confrontation with Morgana in the Stone Henge and Excalibur broke, groaned and swelled once more.

Emotions and memories flooded back to him like they hadn’t in centuries and threatened to crush him under their weight. In turn, the memories of those long centuries just wondering the isles and communing with nature faded further into the background. He felt like the balance within him was shifting infinitesimally every second, the scales tipping in his own mind. All he could hope was that Morgana, everything changing within him after millennia had frozen his mind, and the reappearance of the Questing Beast, would mean the Old Religion had finally taken pity; soon he would finally _finally_ join Arthur in Avalon. His mind lingered on the idea. He could only dream.

He shut his eyes against the bustle of the Infirmary around him and let a small smile play across his face, soft and private and only meant for him.

Outside the Infirmary Thalia and Clarisse were having a screaming row. Annabeth stood to Thalia’s side and Phoebe to Clarisse’s in a strange inversion of group versus personal loyalty.

“I killed the Ceffyl-Dŵr. The Ares cabin deserves the Chariot as my spoils of war!” Clarisse yelled in frustration.

“You don’t need it! The Hephaestus cabin can make you a new one. Our Lady is fighting Typhon which puts us at a disadvantage - put aside your pride for five seconds and think of the good of our armies!” Thalia yelled back.

“ _You_ don’t need it! There’s like forty of you and you’re all immortal! We have only thirty and have given most of resources to protect the young in the safe houses.” The crowd gathering around them murmured in support at that statement.

“Don’t blame us for your camp being cowards.” Thalia sneered. Annabeth turned to Thalia in shock.

“Thalia!” She protested.

“No, it’s true! Where was this ‘protection’ when we came to camp? Where was our safe house?! I was a freaking _tree_ and you had to watch me die at _seven_ , Annabeth. I call it like I see it. This isn’t protecting the young. Camp has never done that before and it doesn’t now. This is cowardice.” 

The gathered Hunters and Campers around them started rumbling at Thalia’s words and small arguments started to break out between them.

“So you want to take away my spoils of war because you’re bitter?” Clarisse derided.

“I’m making a tactical call based on my own knowledge of this camp.”

Annabeth stood in the middle of the two looking between them, her face completely torn between backing up her old friend and defending her Camp.

“This is your pride and nothing more, pine-cone face.” Clarisse snorted.

“You’re one to talk about pride.” Thalia snarled back. “Always pushing the younger Ares campers to show everyone that you’re just the _best._ Well news flash, the Ares cabin isn’t the best and you’re just a bunch of bullies and thugs.”

“Big words from the prissy flower-girl who plays at hunting.” Clarisse shot back. “Nice tiara, I think Disney wants it back for Snow White – maybe you can give it to a squirrel you see on the way back to your tent?” She said gesturing to the Lieutenant circlet resting on Thalia’s head.

“Oh, because anything girly is _evil_.” Thalia shot back.

“I think we’re getting off topic.” Phoebe cut in.

“No, no, I think she’s made her point.” Clarisse said. She shot one final glare at Thalia and turned on her heel, stalking away.

“Why did you say that?” Annabeth rounded on Thalia. “She deserved the Chariot, and the camp could do with the reinforcements, particularly now we know they’re reinforcing monsters with magic that none of the demigods can fight against." She levelled her friend with an unimpressed look. ‘’What’s the real problem here?”

Thalia looked as though she were about to defend herself but one look at Annabeth’s hand on her dagger and shrewd gaze disabused her of the idea that would get her very far.

Thalia sighed and examined Annabeth with inscrutable eyes for a long moment.

“You’re okay with fighting Luke then?” She finally asked. Annabeth’s eyes narrowed.

“He’s not Luke anymore and hasn’t been for a long time. Kronos twisted him and killed him. For that alone, I’m more than okay with fighting the titans.”

“Even if Luke is still in there?” Thalia demanded.

“If he is, he’s not my Luke.” Annabeth returned.

Thalia opened her mouth, then closed it with a click. She slumped and leaned her head against Annabeth’s shoulder.

“I just hate what’s happened to us. Everything that’s been done to us.” She whispered.

Annabeth’s hands came up and wrapped around the taller girl, holding her close as Annabeth stared stonily over Thalia’s shoulder and locked eyes with Percy who was watching the whole scene with a worried look.

“Then use that anger.” She said.

When darkness fell and her stomach rumbled, Clarisse still didn’t want to face the others. She hated the Hunters and their self-righteousness. She hated Annabeth for siding with Thalia rather than her own camp. She hated everyone who looked at her and before she’d even opened her mouth had written her off as a bully. Just because she was a daughter of Ares.

A twig snagged on her shirt and tugged her back. She snarled and slashed at it with her sword until it was only splinters littering her feet. She lashed out at the bush a final time with a satisfying thwack and carried on stomping through the forest undergrowth. The path hidden in shadow in the early February nightfall. She went back to her mental rant.

Thalia thought she pushed the younger ones because she was vindictive? She pushed the younger ones because everyone expected them to be naturally good and wouldn’t hold back on them! Clarisse had just decided long ago that if everyone expected her to be aggressive and good at fighting, why contradict that? She _was_ good at fighting, and she did put her foot in it all the time. All the damn time. It’s like insults just wanted to fly out of her mouth. Half the time she wasn’t even intending to be mean, it was just how she communicated. She’d thought Annabeth had got that and they’d grown closer after the last year or so. That little showdown with Thalia taught her differently, however.

She stormed into the little copse of trees that she had long ago claimed as her own. And stopped dead. Luna Lovegood was barefoot in the stream, her long flowing skirt trailing in the water, and wielding two enormous broad swords expertly against an imaginary attacker. Clarisse watched her for a moment. She had good form. Luna spun and crouched low for a swipe before swinging the second sword round in an upper slice. Clarisse let out a small impressed noise. Luna spun on her toes and smiled at Clarisse.

“Hello, Clarisse la Rue.” She said serenely, for all the world as though she had just been caught staring at the stars rather than expertly decapitating an unseen foe.

“Er, hi there, Lovegood.” Clarisse answered gruffly, absolutely no idea what to do with this oddity, and really not in the mood for her freaky mystical whackadoo that apparently also now came with a side of badassery. “You can…you know, get back to it.” Clarisse gestured vaguely back at the stream Lovegood was still standing in.

“Thank you, that’s very nice of you.” Lovegood smiled and pocketed one of the enormous broadswords in one of her skirt pockets, before hitching up the folds of dripping fabric and unstrapping a knife that had been attached to her ankle, right next to a toadstool. She left the toadstool where it was.

She now brandished the knife in one hand and the sword in the other, running through several drills with Clarisse still awkwardly watching, dithering about whether it would be more awkward to just leave without saying anything or if she could really handle more conversation with the blonde girl. A soft singing reached her ears and Clarisse stopped and stared at Lovegood.

“Did you just say someone’s “eyes were as green as fresh pickled toad’?” She asked incredulously. What sort of shitty pop-song was that?!

“Oh yes,” Luna said vaguely, straightening from her battle stance. “My friend wrote it once for Harry.” She smiled.

“Harry? As in Harry Potter?” Clarisse sniggered. “Di immortales your friend had one hell of a crush.”

“She always was quite vibrant in her colours.” Luna appeared to agree, her gaze sharpened on Clarisse. “Quite a lot like you, actually.”

Clarisse backed away. “I don’t have a crush on Harry.” She said alarmed at the very suggestion.

Luna shrieked with laughter and pocketed her second enormous broadsword. “Of course you don’t.” She smiled slightly. “You just remind me of Ginny a bit, that’s all.”

Clarisse smiled uncertainly. “Ginny?”

“My friend. She was full of colours too. She didn’t know what to do with them.” Luna looked slightly past Clarisse’s head into the forest. “I gave her some corks to soak it up, but I don’t think she understood.” She continued, a slight frown creasing her forehead.

Clarisse looked behind her where Luna was looking and saw nothing. She glanced back at the girl and half-heartedly offered, “That’s a shame.” It seemed like the right thing to say.

“Yes, it was rather. But I’m not sure they would have helped in the end. She had to work out where to put her colours herself, you see.”

Clarisse lost all fondness that had been growing in her at that last statement. So that’s what this conversation was. Another ‘well-meaning’ lecture about how Clarisse just needed to work through her anger and be a nicer person and ‘smile more!’ like anyone had a problem if bloody Beckendorf was smiling. He could be a moody git and suddenly it was ‘brooding’. Well Lovegood could shove it. It was the same moralising bullshit just more witchy this time and Clarisse wasn’t going to take it.

“This girl, Ginny? Everyone love her now since she stopped being a bully and worked out her ‘colours’?” She asked harshly.

Lovegood blinked in surprise.

“A bully? No, she was always very nice. I loved her for years and though she didn’t, we muddled through.” Lovegood floated her hands around her as she spoke, illustrating her point and swaying slightly in the non-existent breeze as Clarisse stared at her in shock.

“You loved her, as in, like, ‘loved’ her?” She asked in surprise.

“Oh yes.” Luna nodded, a small smile playing about her mouth. “How could I not? She was so funny about Harry and so sweet to me, and always so lively.” A light blush dusted across Luna’s cheeks at the last admission and spread like a drip of paint in water across her face.

“She didn’t mind?” Clarisse questioned.

“Why would she? It’s only love. Besides, there were too many wrackspurts in both of us to really make anything clear at the time.” Luna waved her hands airily.

“Oh.” Clarisse answered lamely, thrown completely by Luna’s matter-of-fact tone and outlook on life. The reference to ‘wrackspurts’ didn’t help much either and Clarisse felt increasingly out of her depth in this conversation.

“It didn’t matter really. It was nice to belong.” Luna replied.

And _that_ Clarisse finally understood. Camp meant everything to her. It wasn’t perfect by any means and the war was bloody terrifying, but she loved having so many brothers and sisters, loved having people to laugh and joke with, people to play-fight and spar with, a table full of people to eat dinner at. Camp was home to her and she really would do anything to keep that feeling of belonging. She thought back to her argument earlier with Thalia and scowled. She wanted to go back to the others but didn’t want to run into any of the Hunters on the way. She turned to Luna.

“Come back with me to the cabins?” She offered, a vague idea forming in her mind of using Luna as a meat-shield against the other campers.

Luna beamed at her and finally stepped out of the stream.

“I’d like that.” She responded. Clarisse smiled before she could stop herself at the odd young woman and offered her hand to help balance Luna as she wobbled on one foot strapping her knife next to the toadstool on her ankle once again.

As they set off into the forest back to camp, she felt she had to ask.

“Why do you have a toadstool on your foot?”

“It’s to attract gnomes.” Came the serious reply. “Their saliva is enormously beneficial you know.”

Clarisse nodded dazedly.

“Er-I’m sure it is.”

The conversation didn’t get much saner from there as they wondered together back to the campfire.


	13. Breakfast at Tiffany's.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an unexpected complication arises from over-zealous followers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing. 
> 
> Happy reading!

Neville could hear screaming. It was all he’d been able to hear for the last day. Maybe more. Maybe less. Time was stretching and pulling around him. The only constant anymore was the screaming. It came from the walls. Behind the doors. Under the floor. Himself, sometimes. He slammed through the open door and pushed into the sitting room of the safe house on the Upper East Side.

Four demigods were standing staring sightlessly at nothing. The orange streetlight outside bathed the room in a warm glow, creating a false sense of comfort immediately betrayed by the teenagers’ rigid faces, stiff and bloodless in terror. Their waxen features perverted the room into a sacristy filled with statues of victims from Hell.

Neville shoved a square of chocolate in each of their mouths and carried on; there were more in the next room. They chewed their chocolate but gained little life, their clammy skin and locked joints more at place on Méliès automatons than teenagers.

One of the girls briefly surfaced thanks to the cocoa and looked around in confusion.

“Neville?” She asked in a hoarse and scratchy voice. “Neville, what’s going on. What’s happening to us?”

But Neville could only hear screaming. He carried on to the next room and handed out more chocolate. Ten minutes later, the girl was frozen again. Trapped in her mind.

 _They couldn’t take much more of this_ , Neville thought. He had yet to find the room with Tiffany and the two other Kronos supporters in. He hadn’t been able to find the source of her enchantment. He couldn’t stop it.

The screaming continued.

In Camp Half Blood the evacuation had begun. The attack on the camp had kick-started them into action and only thirty demigods remained to get to the safe houses that Rachel’s veteran demigod network had set up around the country and that the wixen had reinforced with wards.

It had been agreed that Clarisse, Luna, the Stoll Brothers and the Hunters of Artemis would remain to guard the camp with a handful of other demigods. The rest, who were old enough to fight, split into groups of six, all with no more than one child from each godly parent. It had been Annabeth’s idea to spread out the skills to maximise impact from strike teams. They were stationed as protection detail for now with each evacuation group.

Ganymede had sent word to Merlin that Typhon was heading towards Manhattan and Percy, Annabeth, Nico, Will, Merlin, Harry, Ron and Hermione were all taking Silena to the safe house on the Upper East Side to start preparations and set up a base for the final battle. Chiron was rallying the Party Ponies.

Beckendorf and three other Hephaestus cabin kids were staying behind to help Luna make magical weaponry to combat the magically enhanced monsters.

The camp was in organised chaos. Well. Organised if you squinted slightly.

The grim atmosphere reminded Harry forcibly of Hogwarts just before the final battle. He could only hope that this battle would not be as devastating as the last had been. He swore to himself there would be no more Colin Creeveys forever haunting the ground where they died too young. There would be no more Teddy Lupins, an entire family decimated by a power-hungry madman.

He glanced at Hermione. The news she was pregnant was wonderful, and he couldn’t be happier for the both of them. But the parallels terrified him. His only consolation was that this time they had a plan and were making the move first. They weren’t just sitting ducks waiting to be attacked and pinning their hopes on a small boy. Granted, Percy and Annabeth were leading the Greeks, and Harry was still pissed about that, but they were Generals of an army in a way Harry had only ever been to the DA.

To the Ministry, Harry had been a poster boy – to the Light, a sacrificial lamb.

Percy was many things, but a sacrificial lamb he most certainly was not.

The cabin counsellors gathered around the Round Table one last time. Chiron at his full height surveyed them all, his torso covered by an enormous weathered breastplate, the dull metal flickering with the blue glow of Merlin’s conjured flames. Thalia and Phoebe stood beside Annabeth in full Huntress gear, their weapons littering their limbs giving every movement the guarantee of danger.

Percy was still decked out in his ratty jeans and green hoodie, leaning both hands on the table top, checking over the safe house locations one last time and giving out last minute orders. Despite his casual dress, any suggestion of vulnerability was prevented by riptide poking out his back pocket and the way everyone in the room angled themselves around him, listening to his orders. There was no question that here was a leader of the Camp.

Annabeth slammed a binder on the table and cut him off. Percy immediately looked at the indicated map and swore. He nodded to her and she barked an order at one of the Stoll brothers who scurried out of the room instantly at her command.

Harry stood to one side watching everything carefully and occasionally conferred with Hermione in a low tone about last minute portkey coordination. His dark cloak draped over his shoulders and fell in protective folds to the ground, surrounding Harry and Teddy, who was hugging Harry’s leg and clutching a blue dragon toy to his chest.

Charles Beckendorf sidled over to them.

“Harry.” He greeted.

“Charlie.” Harry nodded back.

“You’re taking Silena to the safe house with the rest of Kronos’ forces, aren’t you?” 

Harry raised an eyebrow but nodded in confirmation.

Beckendorf hesitated. “Will she be safe there?” He finally blurted out.

“As safe as the others.” Harry reassured. “I won’t promise you her total safety, no one can do that at times like these. But I’ll try my best, try not to worry.” Harry gripped the enormous son of Hephaestus on the shoulder reassuringly in a way he had seen Percy do with some the younger campers.

Beckendorf smiled gratefully at the wizard before his smile slid off his face.

“I don’t know why I care so much.” He muttered surveying the rest of the council room with a distracted air.

“She was your girlfriend. Of course you care.” Harry returned plainly.

“She was a spy.”

“And you loved her.”

“I didn’t know what she was.”

Harry paused. “If you really thought that, you wouldn’t be talking to me.”

Beckendorf’s head shot up.

“What?”

Harry shrugged. “People are always more complicated than you think. If you think she wasn’t the type to just betray her camp and lie to her friends, then maybe it’s worth talking to her when the war’s over.” He shot Charlie a pointed look. “It’s hard to stop loving someone.”

Harry dug around in his pocket and produced some toast the larger boy could munch on as he thought it over. Friendship with Ron had taught him that emotions were best processed over food. He was just considering whether butter and jam would be appreciated or not when Beckendorf huffed a laugh.

“Jackson was right about you.”

Harry looked at him, shoving the jam jar back into his pocket, disgruntled. “Jackson is a liar, and no one should trust a word from his mouth.”

“No, you definitely just did some A plus mother-henning, Potter.”

“Why does everyone say that? It’s not my fault everyone seems to be under the mistaken impression I have the answers to their problems. I just throw out some ‘you know how you really feel inside’ bull s-“ He glanced down at Teddy. “sugar. It’s not my fault you all think that’s wise.”

He pursed his lips in frustration at the highly amused dark young man who stood in front of him, toast balanced precariously in his enormous hand and eyebrows steadily climbing to his closely cropped hair line.

“Never said you were wise, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I said you mothered.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Beckendorf. Unfortunately, the effect was somewhat lost through his glasses and he ended up looking like he was squinting slightly. Beckendorf bit back a laugh. Di immortalis, this guy was terrifying in a fight and seemed to ooze more magic than even Merlin, but sometimes he really did just look like a grumpy teenager. A very good-looking teenager – Beckendorf wasn’t blind – but a teenager all the same.

“Look after yourself, Harry.” He said and turned away.

“Charlie.” Harry called after him. “I’ll look after her as best I can. Stay safe.”

Beckendorf’s shoulders eased slightly with the promise and he nodded gratefully at Harry as he strode out of the council room.

The confusion carried on until finally everyone was ready and Silena stood beside Hermione, refusing to look at anyone. All the cabin counsellors and strike teams were gathered around their portkeys with their evacuation groups huddled in the centre of each.

Hermione called Harry over to the council table where his team was waiting.

“You ready to go?” She asked briskly.

They reached for the portkeys and all hesitated for a moment, drinking in the sight of each other, aware that the next time they all met in a group like this they’d be on a battlefield.

The portkeys glowed blue. Harry lifted Teddy up so the boy could reach the cork and a jerk behind his navel whisked them away.

They slammed to the ground and Harry immediately covered Teddy’s ears.

“What the hell is that?!” Ron yelled from beside him.

The room around them flickered white for a second.

“Who was that.” Will Solace whispered.

“Who?” Harry and Nico asked in confusion, then glanced over at each other in surprise. The scream rent the air again, piercing through the walls and setting them all on high alert.

Harry looked over at Ron and knew they were both remembering the awful night locked in the Malfoy basement. Ron strode towards the door. If someone needed their help, they needed to go.

A scuffle behind them diverted their attention back to the room. Merlin was stumbling back, his hands reaching behind him for a surface with which to stabilise himself. “No.” He choked out. “Not you.”

Harry grabbed Teddy’s hand and scrambled over to the warlock, Will Solace on his heels.

“Merlin? Merlin!” He yelled at his friend who had completely frozen and was now staring at a blank space on the wall behind them, shaking slightly, face bleached white as though he’d seen a ghost.

Will snapped his fingers in front of Merlin’s eyes. There was no reaction. He looked back up to Harry in fear, and suddenly seemed very young to the immortal wizard. Harry looked desperately over to Ron and Hermione for help. But Ron had started backing away from nothing and huddling against the wall.

“Ron? Ron?” Harry called urgently.

The world flashed white again, and for a horrible second Teddy’s hand disappeared from his grasp. He bent down and bundled the small boy against his chest. Teddy looked back at Harry with glazed and terrified eyes.

“What is happening. What the hell is happening to us.” Harry whispered, watching his friends around him descend into paralysis, the screaming still going from beyond the walls.

They’d literally just arrived, and it had all gone to shit.

The last thing he saw before his world completely whited out was Teddy crying out his name and reaching for him.

He awoke on a white train platform, completely naked. No Teddy in sight. There was a strange sense of intangibility about everything. He hurtled to his feet and briefly wondered where his clothes went. They appeared in a small pile nearby. Harry froze. He reached out a shaking hand and dressed himself. Closing his eyes in dread, he prayed to anything that cared, anything that had any mercy, that he wasn’t where he thought it was.

Harry opened his eyes and stared into the benign face of Albus Dumbledore. Before he’d even thought about it, a wand had snapped into his palm and he was pointing it, the tip shaking and glowing slightly, right into the wrinkled face.

“Where’s Teddy?” Harry bit out harshly.

“Harry you brave, brave man-“ Dumbledore began.

A bone rattling metallic schink ruptured through the room and forced Harry to bend over clutching his ears in pain. He straightened up and pointed his shaking wand at the suddenly closer face of his old headmaster.

“Where _the fuck_ is my godson?” Harry growled.

“Your godson?” Dumbledore questioned in bafflement.

“Yes. My godson. Edward Remus Lupin. Best kid in the world. Where. Is. He.”

A pounding like a drumbeat was growing steadily louder and rattling the walls, rippling the floor with its pulse. Harry stumbled in the disorientating space and glared hatefully at the ramrod straight figure of his old headmaster, staring down his long nose condescendingly at Harry staggering.

Dumbledore smiled genially. “Well, I would imagine with his grandmother. I had assumed Andromeda stayed out of the battle unlike the children you led?”

Harry snarled and whipped out his second wand, one now barred against the old man’s throat, the other pointing straight between his eyes.

“Like you were any better. Don’t you dare put that on me.”

Dumbledore blinked.

The world crumpled and suddenly he was in front of Andromeda’s dead body, Teddy a tiny baby again, crying in his arms. A flash of white and Dumbledore’s face was in front of him, filling his whole vision, engulfing him in its well-meaning superiority.

“Harry, my boy –“

“I am not, nor have I ever been ‘your boy’.” Harry was well aware he was lying with that one, but Christ if it wasn’t satisfying to say.

Dumbledore multiplied and suddenly he was surrounded, both by the fragments of Dumbledore’s face and by images of Harry’s younger self, alternately smiling and laughing, and snarling and yelling. Harry whipped round and pivoted on his heel in a desperate attempt to keep them all in his sight line.

“Harry, what has happened to you? This anger, is it truly your own?” Dumbledore’s voice echoed through the room, threading through the faces and contorting the wisps of reality until he was surrounded by eyes. Blue accusing eyes. Green terrified ones. Red ones full of hatred.

Harry had never felt more exposed. He furiously forced his fear to harden into anger. He refused to listen to what this Dumbledore imposter was suggesting.

“Of course it’s my own, who’s else would it be?” Harry yelled at the dome of eyes caging him in and spinning around him.

“To destroy a horcrux, the body must be irreparably destroyed. You are not dead, my boy. You failed.”

Harry felt like he was going to be sick and dimly registered his breath was starting to come out in short breaths.

“No! I died and I came back! I defeated Voldemort and some weird shit happened with Merlin and now I’m helping the Greeks!” Harry denied, taking panicking steps away from the accusing eyes, all of them laughing at his naivety.

“You defeated Voldemort?” Came the mocking retort. Voldemort’s hissing sibilance wrapped around Dumbledore’s measured tone in a twisting embrace.

“Are you certain you died, my boy?”

“Ye- Yes! And then I came back. I raised Teddy. W-We won.” Harry stuttered.

“If you know you died, how can you be certain you lived?”

Harry’s gut plunged. A tingling had started in his body and he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. His world narrowed down to the single knife point of Dumbledore’s voice.

“How can you be sure?” It asked softly.

“Because I _remember_.” Harry roared.

Silence. Stillness.

“But what is memory?” The dust breathed back.

The metallic schink sliced through the world once again and the walls dissolved into a lake. In the tick of a clock, the world had melted and mutated until Harry was standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest looking up at a ruined Hogwarts, stained a ghostly green by the glow of the Dark Mark rising high above the towers. Harry couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

The world moved for him. Harry wasn’t sure which between himself and the world was floating and which was grounded. All he knew was he could suddenly see the courtyard and it was full of dead bodies. McGonagall spread eagled on the flag stones. Ginny crumpled against a wall. Neville hanging by his cloak from a brazier. The putrid stench of death and decay and dark magic desecrated the air.

Voldemort’s voice rung out, high and cold in the air.

“Harry Potter is dead!” It cackled gleefully, straight out of Harry’s memories. “The Elder wand is mine – I am unbeatable! and you will _all bow_.”

A scream rent through the Great Hall doors.

Harry was shaking so hard his bones were rattling in his skin.

“This isn’t real.”

“Just because it is happening inside your head, why on earth should that mean it is not real?” Dumbledore chuckled back.

The drum beat started again and with every strike the world changed. Boom. He was back at Kings Cross in limbo, Dumbledore’s face filling his vision and smiling placidly. Boom boom. He was back at Hogwarts staring into Neville’s glassy eyes. Ka -boom _boom_. He was in the cupboard again. It was shrinking, getting smaller and smaller, pinning his arms to his sides. He scrabbled at his throat for air- Boom BOOM. Voldemort was in front of him, wand poised, curse - Boom _flash_! He was – _boom_! in the Chamber of Secrets. Flash! Cedric turned- BOOM - Sirius fell - Flash! His mother screamed- BOOM. Quirrell was dying. FLASH. Teddy was lying dead in Harry’s hands.

Harry blacked out.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there but when he finally came to it was with one thought beating along in time to his heartbeat and syncopating with the drumbeat ringing in the floor. Teddy wasn’t dead. This wasn’t real.

He sucked in an enormous breath, air finally rushing into his screaming lungs. It hurt on the way in and stabbed at his throat. He heaved another breath and hauled himself up so he was kneeling, pressing his forehead into the earth, using the sensation to ground him.

“This isn’t real.” He muttered. “This isn’t real, this isn’t how it happened. They all lived.” He repeated it as a mantra until the rest of this insubstantial world came back into focus.

Reaching inside himself he grasped for his magic and wrapped it around him like a cocoon, the warmth and comforting tingle finally providing clarity like a warm mug of tea giving life to frozen fingers.

 _This is some sort of fear enchantment_. The memory of his friends slowly backing away and staring at nothing came back to him. _Like a boggart inside your mind, feeding like a parasite and weaving its illusions_ , he slowly worked out, adrenaline and exhaustion clouding his mind and making it difficult to think. _So, if this is like a boggart…how do you beat it? Laughter? There was nothing to laugh at here._

Harry’s mind flashed back to the Mirror of Erised. That feeling of wonder shattering around him as he realised it wasn’t real; the image of his parents nothing less than his greatest desire. And nothing more.

Well here were his greatest fears, nestled and waiting in his heart. They too, would not ensnare him. His magic prodded him and he knew what he had to do.

“This isn’t real.” He stated loudly, the words settling around him as tangible as his cloak with the weight and magic of his Belief.

Dumbledore’s face mangled into a vicious snarl and his mouth stretched to cover his whole face. The monster lunged at Harry, but the world had already crumpled into mist around them and Harry came to with Teddy screaming and beating at his chest where he lay on the wooden floorboard of the safe house, the whimpering of his friends around him.

“Teddy. Teddy.” He sat up and caught the little boy’s hands. “Teddy I’m fine! Look, see! Totally fine!” Teddy stared unseeingly at Harry. He cursed and reached into his pocket scrabbling about until he felt the crinkled wrapping of a Honeyduke’s chocolate bar.

He stuffed a square into Teddy’s mouth, quickly swiping one for himself as well. The warmth spread through him as he chewed and swallowed, and Teddy’s red-rimmed eyes finally focused on Harry.

“Daddy?” He whispered.

“Totally fine, Teddy. Totally fine. It’s an enchantment. Like a boggart, you know boggarts.” Teddy nodded weakly. Harry pressed the chocolate bar into his hands. “Keep eating that. As much as you can. It’ll stop the nightmares.” Teddy hugged the bar like it was the most precious thing in the universe, his toy dragon discarded on the floor.

Harry staggered to his feet and held out his arms to Teddy who launched himself forward and burrowed into his chest.

“Come on, let’s check on the others. Say something the moment you don’t feel right, okay?”

Teddy nodded, shivering slightly and already stuffing another square of chocolate in his mouth.

“That’s good, you’re doing good, Ted.” He rubbed his godson’s back comfortingly with his other arm. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Came the whispered reply.

“Christ, we’re going to need so much therapy after this.” Harry muttered and turned to his catatonic friends.

Nico was the most immediate priority. The shadows around him were growing and solidifying, reinforcing a cage made of bones that was forming around him. Skeleton warriors were slowly assembling themselves and clattering over to loom over everyone else, Will Solace and Percy first.

“Keep eating, Ted.” He encouraged as he crept towards the huddling son of Hades.

“Nico?” He called softly. “Nico? It’s Harry, can you hear me?” He crouched down directly in front of the cage bars. He reached a hand through, careful not to touch the death magic. “Nico?”

Nico cried an ear-splitting yell and crumpled in on himself further, mumbling continuous negatives and pleas to someone.

“Nico?” He called again.

“No! Not here! Not because of this! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I can change. This doesn’t have to mean anything, please, please, not here.” He begged.

Harry’s heart shattered. He raised his palm to his face and gently blew on it, his love for his friends and Teddy, and his desire to help the younger boy, manifesting as wisps of white mist. It poured from his palm just like that day on the beach with Merlin, that seemed an age ago now, when he had first worked in harmony with the Old Religion. He gently held the white mist to the bars and watched as they wrapped around the shadows and dispersed them with a soft sigh. Harry turned to Teddy with a smile, who was watching nervously, munching his chocolate.

“Is that a patonus?” Teddy asked quietly.

“Patronus.” Harry corrected. “Might as well be.” He confirmed. Teddy nodded seriously.

“Is Nico, gonna be ok?” Teddy asked with fearful eyes at the rocking boy.

“I hope so, Teddy, I hope so.” He stroked the boys head and reached into his pocket for more chocolate.

He gingerly levered Nico’s mouth open and hurriedly popped a square in, sitting back on his heels and watching him carefully the moment the boy swallowed.

Nico blinked and looked dazedly into Harry’s face.

“Hey there, Nico.” Harry said gently.

Nico inhaled a rattling breath. “Not you too.” He muttered brokenly.

Harry snapped off another square of chocolate and handed it to the boy.

“It’s not real, Nico. It’s an enchantment. Whatever you saw, whatever you think is happening. It’s not real. It never happened.”

“Not yet.” Came the whispered reply.

“Whatever it is, your friends, Will, me, we won’t let that happen.”

Nico stiffened.

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.” He snarled, raising his face to meet Harry’s concerned gaze.

“You’re right.” Nico flinched. “I can’t promise to protect you against everything. But I can promise to try.”

“Even against yourselves?” Nico asked.

Harry watched him seriously.

“Especially against ourselves.” He finally answered.

“How can you say that when you barely know me.” Came the incensed reply.

“Nico, I grew up in a war. Short of cold-blood murder it would take a lot to phase me. I can almost guarantee whatever it is you’re hiding I’ve seen or done worse.”

Harry really, really hoped he wasn’t about to find out that Nico was secretly evil. But Teddy liked the kid and he was normally an excellent judge of character, so Harry found the thought unlikely. Still. The level that Nico was freaking out was starting to put him on edge.

It didn’t help that he was still shaken from his own encounter and the world still occasionally flashed white as the enchantment tried to sink its hooks into his mind.

“It’s not something I’ve done. It’s what I am.” Nico whispered.

Harry breathed out in relief.

“Kid. Nico. Look around. We’re all a bit fucked up.” Nico looked up sharply at that. “Me, Ron and Hermione were child soldiers. That leaves a mark. I used to live with my aunt and uncle who kept me in a cupboard under the stairs, that definitely left its mark.” Harry huffed a humourless laugh, desperately trying to reassure Nico without knowing what the real root of the problem was.

He could only hope he wasn’t seriously putting his foot in it. He wished he was better at stuff like this, but Nico’s fears really didn’t feel like the sort of things he could fix with a cup of tea and a blanket. Although, the lack of more skeleton monsters appearing was marginally encouraging. Harry was confident he’d know the moment he really screwed it up.

Nico watched him for a long while, munching on his chocolate.

“Did I say anything while I was in the vision?” He finally asked.

“Just that you didn’t want to be there and that you ‘can change’.” Harry replied truthfully.

Nico tensed. “Anything else?”

“No.”

Nico searched his face for a long while, scrutinising him for any hint that he wasn’t telling the truth. He slowly nodded and started to uncurl from his position against the wall.

“How are the others?” He asked in a forcibly casual voice. Harry moved back to give him space and looked around at the others.

Silena screamed from the corner. Harry shut his eyes against it, with the childish idea that if he couldn't see it, it wasn't happening.

“Not good.” He heaved in a heavy breath and chucked a bar of chocolate at Nico. “Keep eating that and give some to the others to wake them.”

Nico fumbled the catch, his hands still shaking, but he nodded resolutely at Harry and turned to Will. Harry crossed the room to Ron and Hermione, clutching Teddy’s hand tightly in his own.

They got to work.

Percy gasped awake, Annabeth beside him doing the same. They turned to each other.

“You were there.” They said at the same time. They both paused.

“You helped-“ They broke off again. Annabeth huffed a hysterical laugh.

“You complete _seaweed brain_. Who yells at spiders they should consider a career as Lord of the Rings extras?”

Percy blushed. “Well who yells at _themselves_ they need to get a life and stop blaming others.”

Annabeth didn’t blush.

“I stand by that. She was being unreasonable.”

“Then I stand by the spider comment. They had the dramatics down for sure. _Your pride, Annabeth, it will kill you, Annabeth, click click click I’m a scary spider and am just bitter I wasn’t cast in ‘Spookies’. You will kill everyone woooooo._ ” Percy imitated, pulling his fingers up by his mouth to act out tiny pincers.

Annabeth hit him on the shoulder. Her grey eyes were filled with tears but, though the sound came out a bit soggy, she was laughing. Percy clacked the imaginary pincers again, anything to keep the wonderful laugh going. She giggled again and Percy just took her in. Revelling in the fact they were both there. They’d been terrified out of their minds but she was smiling a real genuine smile, and nothing else really mattered.

“What?” She asked self-consciously.

“Nothing, it’s just. Nothing.” Percy replied hurriedly, ripping his gaze from her face.

“No, what is it?”

“I-it’s just. I like your laugh.”

Annabeth stilled. Their eyes met.

The world tilted on its axis and flashed with a deafening clang, and then Annabeth was right there in front of him, holding his arms just as reliant on his support as he was on hers.

“The nightmares are still attacking.” She grit out.

The clang came again and almost knocked them both to the floor. They held on by the tips of their fingers, great shuddering trembles wracking through them. Percy locked onto Annabeth’s eyes.

“If they come again, you just come and pull me out like last time. I’ll do the same for you.” He smiled weakly.

“So you can yell at more spiders? Throw another shoe at Luke?” She joked with a hitch in her breath, listing to the side, her grip painful on his arm.

His hands tightened around hers. Her eyes darted down to his mouth.

“As many shoes as it takes.” The flippant tone gave way to the promise underneath. But the emotion was too much, too heartfelt to be held in the inadequate words.

They were a breath apart.

And then they were kissing.

The soft press of their lips the only thing Percy could feel. The screaming beyond the walls and the enchantment he could literally feel pressing down on him through the air disappeared in the face of the all-encompassing experience that was Annabeth. Annabeth’s lips on his. Her breath fanning across his face. Her eyelashes so close he could count them. Her eyes so unguarded, baring every emotion so openly that Percy felt like he was looking into her very soul. Grey eyes meeting sea-green swirling with memories and shared adventure and shared pain and shared joy and such _fondness_ his heart burst with it.

Percy pressed closer, his hand coming up to cradle her face. They kissed slowly and sweetly and softly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head further. He shifted up further to meet her-

“Ew.” Came a tiny voice to their right.

They jumped apart, Percy’s hand over his rabbiting heartbeat so he felt like a Victorian lady clutching at her pearls.

“Teddy.” Harry Potter hissed.

Percy looked up to see Harry, Ron and Hermione stood in front of them. Teddy by Harry’s side clutching a chocolate bar, his little hand latched onto Harry’s black trouser leg and hair flashing green with disgust.

Percy met the five-year-old’s gaze with as much dignity as he could muster. No way was he going to be embarrassed by the single best experience of his life. He chanced a look back at Annabeth. Her eyes met his and he grinned as they danced with amusement back at him.

She turned to the wixen.

“You broke out of your enchantments too then?” She asked coolly. Percy wished he was that calm and collected. How did she do it?

Harry coughed awkwardly into his hand and Percy stopped gazing dreamily at Annabeth.

“Yeah. We used chocolate, but, I guess, kissing works too?”

Ron sniggered. Harry awkwardly offered a chocolate bar to them.

“Congratulations?” He offered.

“They’re not getting married, mate.” Ron chortled. “Bit early for the well-wishing.”

Percy and Annabeth blushed furiously.

Harry dithered for a moment. Another scream came through the walls.

It snapped them out of whatever that hell that awkward _thing_ had been.

“Right. Is that everyone?” Harry asked casting around the room, making sure everyone was coherent again and had a bar of chocolate to hand with which to counteract the enchantment.

“Just Merlin.” Nico’s voice came from the corner where he stood beside a clammy Will, his gaze inscrutable as he looked at Percy still sitting against the wall with Annabeth for a long moment. He turned away, face completely blank.

Percy wondered what his fear had been.

“Harry, Merlin’s soul is reacting weirdly to the enchantment. Whenever I feel a particularly strong tug from the spell his soul reacts to it.”

Harry looked at his friend in concern.

“Did you try and snap him out of it?” He asked Nico sharply.

“Everything, even Will tried. We can’t get to him.”

Harry swore and ran his hands through his hair, scruffing it up so the curls formed an even messier bird’s nest surrounding his face.

“Right. Right. We’ll have to destroy the enchantment without him then. Stick together or split up?”

“Harry, someone should contact the other houses. If this one’s been compromised, the others might be as well.” Hermione cut in.

Harry’s hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose under his glasses.

“Fuck- shit sorry, Teddy. You’re right. Ron, is there a phone?”

Ron nodded. “I’ll take Percy and Annabeth to it. Percy can call Rachel and set her network on the job while we scope out the rooms. I’ll send a patronus if we find anything.”

Harry sent him a thankful look.

“Good luck.” They hugged, all of them needing the reassurance with the enchantment still trying to twist their minds. The door clicked shut behind the three of them with finality.

“Right. Hermione, you, Silena, me and Teddy are going to search the rest of the house for other demigods and the enchantment. Nico and Will, here’s basically all my chocolate. Check out some of the rooms but only as far as you’re comfortable with. If you find anyone, wake them up and bring them back here. I’ll put a ward on the door that will only let you in if you know the password. It won’t protect against the spell, but it will help with physical attack.”

They both set their jaws and nodded determinedly.

Harry glanced at Merlin, lying perfectly still on the floor, his dark hair fanning out around his sharp cheekbones and creating a halo of shadow that softened his face and made him look years younger. Tears leaked silently from the corners of his eyes, which were flickering rapidly behind his closed eyelids. Harry swallowed heavily.

“Look after him.” He rasped out around the heavy lump in his throat.

Will took the chocolate.

“We will. Go break the enchantment.” He reassured.

Harry hovered for a moment at the door, unwilling to leave them. He took one last look at Merlin and turned. The heavy wooden door shut behind him.

Silena, Hermione and Teddy’s faces glowed back at him in the dimly lit hallway.

Harry pulled Teddy close and glanced at Hermione.

“Patronuses?”

She smiled ruefully and nodded. Harry turned to Silena with a good-natured roll of his eyes.

“It’s the only spell she’s ever had trouble with. Shame really.”

Silena smiled back hesitantly.

A great silver stag burst from Harry’s wand and cantered happily through the corridor, Hermione’s otter soon joined. It swum lazily through the shadows and snuggled against Teddy’s face for a bit making the smaller boy giggle.

Silena watched their progress in awe.

“They’re beautiful.” She breathed, her eyes shining with the reflective light of the guardians. “They’re made completely of love, that’s just, that’s-“

“Oh, yeah. I’d imagine that’d feel quite weird for a daughter of Aphrodite.” Harry mused.

“Weird? _Magical_.” She gushed.

Harry smiled slightly and kept walking.

“I wonder what animal mine would be.” Silena murmured to herself.

“Is there anyone that you think particularly protects you or you care deeply for?” Hermione asked, glad to see the girl hesitantly breaking her self-imposed silence.

“I-“ She blushed heavily and looked down. “Charlie.” She admitted quietly.

“He asked about you, you know.” Harry cut in.

To be honest, he wasn’t sure why he was telling the girl that. He was still furious about her fake kidnapping of Teddy. But he’d agreed to give all of Kronos’s demigod forces a second chance and Silena at least _appeared_ to be sincere in her regret.

Honestly, the more he heard about this Luke Castellan the more he sounded like a young Tom Riddle and Harry just wanted to punch him. He’d heard Silena’s claim that she’d at first thought she’d be saving lives and had been promised Charlie’s safety. It was just the sort of lie a young Voldemort would have told to gain a spy. So, no, he didn’t blame her. Didn’t mean he wasn’t still monumentally pissed off though.

Hermione shot Harry a disapproving look.

Damn. It’s like she could read his mind. Hermione rolled her eyes at him. Harry started to become genuinely afraid that Hermione had learned legilimency.

“He did?” Came a quiet voice from behind him.

Harry sighed. “I think he’ll talk to you after all this.” Harry admitted. He winced. He probably shouldn’t have told her that, just in case Beckendorf decided he didn’t want to speak with her after all… but his palpable relief at Harry’s promise he would look after Silena did rather suggest otherwise.

Silena looked as though he had just announced the return of the Messiah.

“Really?” She asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Harry did a mental coin flip. Damn. Heads.

“He asked me to keep you safe here.” Harry confided. “Obviously he’s still pissed and you’d better hope he thinks your story holds up. But he still cares.”

Silena straightened with every word until finally she stood a proud daughter of Aphrodite before him and Hermione, head held high. Harry mentally despaired at his helping people reflex. He was supposed to be holding a grudge against the girl for god sake. Not giving her relationship counselling.

“He won’t regret it.” She vowed. Hermione looked at the girl in approval. Harry cried a bit inside. He’d given the blasted girl confidence and a ‘reason to go on’. Why. Why was he like this. He should be sniping and steadily stripping away her confidence like a Slytherin on a caffeine comedown.

“Best get going then.” Hermione said, smiling properly at the girl for the first time.

Harry grit his teeth and furiously squashed the urge to send his patronus cantering round them in comfort.

Hermione glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye and her lip twitched.

Harry hated the world with a passion. They kept walking.

Two corridors and a staircase over, Percy hung up the phone from Rachel. He turned to Annabeth and Ron and nodded.

“She says she’ll tell them all but none of them have said anything about any bad stuff happening at the other houses. She thinks it’s just this one.”

“Because it’s the base, do you think?” Annabeth speculated.

“It’s the most volatile mix of people as well.” Ron added.

Percy nodded at both of their points.

“You think one of those three demigods who actually supported Kronos has done something and just bonus points that it’s the base?” He questioned.

“How did they get the enchantment _in_ though?” Annabeth asked in frustration. “I thought you guys warded the whole apartment, inside and out.”

“We did!” Ron raised his hands in innocence. “But there’s loopholes to every ward. What Harry did on Calypso’s island showed that. It just seemed so unlikely there was anyone on Kronos’s side with that depth of knowledge about this branch of magic.”

“They have _Morgana_.” Annabeth derided.

“Yeah and she’s _Old Religion_.” Ron retorted. “Different quidditch pitch entirely.”

The world tilted and they all quickly stuffed a square of chocolate in their mouths, desperately warding off the insistent terrors.

“Does it matter?” Percy interrupted as they gained their equilibrium and Annabeth looked to be gearing up for a scathing retort. “The enchantment is here and the other safe houses are fine for now. We need to get back to Harry and the others and break the spell before Kronos has time to set up Manhattan first. We want him to dance to our tune, not the other way around.”

Ron nodded and sent a patronus to Hermione and Harry.

A great groan wrecked through the house and they all pitched to the side as the enchantment once more tried to take hold.

Neville burst through the door. His hands clawed around the lintel, his jagged fingernails were talons raking at the wood and splintering what little nail he had left. He slammed his entire body against the door shutting it with a force to rattle the walls and leaned his head back against it, heaving in great rattling breaths. His eyes were wild and bloodshot, too wide in his sunken face. His hair was dishevelled, his chin scratchy with stubble, the pads of his fingers splayed against the door were specked and smeared with melted chocolate.

Ron had never seen Neville look this bad, even when he’d been hiding out in the Room of Requirement for more than three months rescuing the students from right under the Carrow’s noses. He caught Neville’s shoulders and ducked down so he was staring directly into his friend’s eyes.

“Neville? Neville?” He called, shaking the man by his collar, trying to get some type of reaction. Neville’s head lolled until his eyes focused on Ron’s with a feverish intensity.

“Ron? Ron!” Neville yelled. “Listen, Ron, you have to – the screaming – it won’t stop! I can’t do anything, I can’t find them. I’ve given them all chocolate, but the screaming won’t stop.” He shouted, his hands twisting in Ron’s own collar, wrenching at the fabric as he tried to make Ron see.

Ron’s stomach clenched at Neville’s words. Of course Neville heard screaming. Of course it didn’t stop. That was the point.

He pulled Neville in and rested his hand against the back of the shaking man’s head.

“Ron? Ron! Did you get that?!” Neville yelled in Ron’s ear. He winced at the loud noise but held the man close ignoring the spasming and buckling of joints in Neville’s razor-sharp body.

“We’ll make it stop, Neville. We’re gonna stop the screaming.” He vowed, gripping the back of Neville’s shirt and pulling the man back so he could read his lips.

“I can’t hear you.” Neville whispered back, loud in the quiet of the hall, but silent in the cacophony in his own mind.

Will glanced over at Nico.

Nico wasn’t looking at him.

Will looked away.

He glanced at Nico again.

Nico was still staring at the doorway, his arms folded and shoulders around his ears. His enormous aviator jacket completely swallowing him and making him look like a small angry ant hill sitting on the floor.

He waited. He waited some more.

Nico didn’t say anything. Will shuffled a bit. He cracked.

“Should we try some of the rooms for demigods?”

“If you want. I don’t mind.” Nico shrugged, voice a flat monotone.

“I think we should eat some more chocolate before trying.” Will decided.

Nico nodded and they lapsed back into silence.

Will fiddled with the tip of his dagger.

What do you say to someone who’s just lived out their greatest fear, when you have also just faced your single worst nightmare and the only thing preventing from having to do so again and turning into a dribbling mess was a magical Freddo?

Will wished he was in one of those games with the parent control lock where you had a set list of conversation boxes you could choose from and you quite simply didn’t have to think of anything to say yourself, you just picked the least embarrassing option and hoped the other gamers forgave you for having protective parents. Or even better – wouldn’t it be incredible if he was a sitcom where, when you got to the end of the scene, you just time skipped to the next scene. No awkward transition just a black screen cut and a new scene. Imagine.

“It would be really awkward if anyone came in right now.” Will tried again.

He wasn’t expecting Nico’s response.

Nico’s head whipped up so fast Will was tempted to check if he needed treatment for whiplash or a cricked neck.

“Why do you say that?” Nico demanded.

Will was taken aback by the sharp acerbity in Nico’s voice and the scrutiny of his glare. He felt as if Nico was peeling him back, layer by layer and inspecting each and every one until he could see right inside his head and read with his own eyes that Will was trying to break the tension, was an awkward idiot, had clearly said the wrong thing and would very much like the floor to swallow him up – now – anytime now.

“Just, because Merlin looks like a dead body and we look really suspicious standing around him.” Will tried to salvage the situation.

And then he remembered the great truth about failed jokes. That it was so. much. worse. trying to explain the joke after when you know you’re a mess and a failure, than just doing the deed, dying a little inside, and moving on, never to think of it again.

Nico relaxed and smiled awkwardly at Will before steadfastly avoiding his eyes.

Did he just? Yep. That was a pity smile. Will just got a pity smile.

Merlin muttered and twitched on the floor between them.

Will hurried over and popped another square in the warlock’s mouth, taking off his jacket and rolling it up into a pillow to cushion Merlin’s head.

Nico watched him with an inscrutable expression.

“What do you think he’s seeing?” Will asked quietly.

“Nothing good.” Nico said, sounding strangely subdued. “Going by his soul’s reaction.”

Will kept his eyes fixed on Merlin’s contorting face as he tossed about, muttering under his breath. It sounded like he was saying names.

Was that? Yes, it was. The warlock was repeating ‘Merlin’ and ‘Arthur’ over and over again. Muttering and mumbling and pleading. But that must be wrong, why would he be saying his own name?

“What’s it doing?”

Nico hesitated but answered with a tiny shrug of his shoulders, hands gesturing to the centre of Merlin’s chest, presumably where he could sense the soul-force.

“Getting smaller, splitting up, overlaying. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s like there’s something imprinting down on it sometimes. I don’t know. I don’t know how he’s still so _normal_ with such an unstable soul.”

Will gazed down at the warlock. Intellectually he knew that Merlin was at least a thousand, more ancient than the crumbled castles in his History textbook, but the man before him looked only around twenty. He could be a student passing Will by on his way to his morning caffeine fix before university and Will wouldn’t have batted an eye.

He took a deep breath. He let it go slowly and adjusted the make-shift pillow slightly.

“Will he be okay? Do you think? After this?”

Nico met Will's gaze evenly.

“Everything comes to an end at some point.”

Harry tried the final door at the end of the hallway.

“Harry, why are you pushing at a wall?” Hermione questioned from behind him, her voice weary from the constant attacks of the enchantment and the effort of maintaining the patronus.

Harry turned to her, his brow furrowing.

“What do you mean? There’s a door right here.” He gestured to the heavy wooden panelled door.

“Harry, there’s nothing there.” Hermione was looking concerned now.

“No, there’s a door right there.” Harry insisted.

“Daddy there’s no door.” Teddy piped up from around his chocolate bar he had taken to sucking on like an ice-lolly as the breaks between enchantment waves had become shorter and shorter.

Harry was truly bewildered now.

He could see the door plain as day. Why couldn’t the others- oh. There was a faint shimmer around the lintel and the join at the floor. The tell-tale haze of mist at work. That explained it. Harry was a part of the Greek Pantheon, he could see through even the most powerful of mist layers. The others couldn’t. Harry loved a good god-perk.

He trailed his fingers over the mist join and pushed a tiny spark of magic into each corner, leaving a shining trail of gold magic where his finger marked. The door glowed brightly for a second before the mist fell, like a veil gracefully fluttering to the floor.

Hermione passed her hand through the visible falling magic.

“Mist?” She deduced.

“Must have been. And I’ll bet this is where Tiffany and the enchantment is.” He said grimly, turning to face them, one hand clenched white knuckled around the doorknob.

His eyes fell on Teddy.

“Teddy.” He cajoled.

Teddy’s hair flashed blue and he held out his arms to be picked up, rolling his eyes in the process. Harry raised his eyebrows at his godson’s attitude.

“Glad to see someone’s not worried.” He remarked, casting as many sticking charms as he could so Teddy stayed firmly on his hip, and reinforcing his cloak’s protective enchantments. The fabric waved in a non-existent breeze and the air around it distorted slightly, making the edges appear as though smoke were curling lazily from the threads.

Hermione beside him drew out her own cloak and activated the enchantments on it, the red fabric rippling magic as she shook it out and cast it over her shoulders.

Harry paused in his casting unbreakable and repelling charms on Silena’s chest plate and arm vambrace’s.

“You always way overcharge that thing.” He griped, “There’s so much magic on that it gets in my nose and makes me sneeze.”

Hermione shot him an unimpressed look.

“Yes, well some of us can’t channel _ley lines_ at will and have to compensate in other ways.” She returned.

“And here I thought it was quality over quantity, or does size actually matter to you?” He needled, the adrenaline rushing through him before the impending confrontation making him flippant.

Hermione was not amused.

“Lovely conversation for a five-year-old to overhear, Harry.”

“It’s important to learn differing approaches to armour at a young age so he can always perform a dynamic risk assessment.” Harry returned officiously.

“’Dynamic Risk Assessment’? I had no idea you actually read your mail from the Ministry. Kingsley will be pleased to know you don’t actually have an owl redirection ward around the cottage. I’ll be sure to pass on the good news.”

“Don’t you dare.” Harry hissed. “They keep sending me auror trainee requests for shadowing. I’m not bloody Peter Pan, you know. I don’t want a shadow!”

“It’s good experience! For them and for you!”

Silena coughed delicately into her fist.

“Enchantment? Imminent battle? Forces of Kronos?” She reminded them.

Hermione had the grace to look sheepish. Harry grumbled, readjusted Teddy and turned back to the door.

“Last chance to back out.” He offered.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” Hermione barged past him and opened the door, sweeping into the room, her cloak flaring out behind her.

Silena grinned at him and followed on Hermione’s heels though the door.

Harry rolled his eyes. He so loved how respected he was by his friends and attempted-grudges.

Harry entered the room to the tableau of two slumped demigods knocked out cold against the wall, Silena standing over the closest, rounder’s bat in hand, and Hermione standing stock still, her wand pointed straight between Tiffany’s eyes, who for some inexplicable reason was smirking.

Harry scanned the room for magic and numbers and symbols lit up around the room. The corners and walls scrolled with runes like a hacker’s screen in one of Dudley’s sci-fi films; Hermione’s cloak blazed with symbols and Silena’s armour similarly shone.

Harry missed all this, his eye fixated on the pulsating, writhing green mass in Tiffany’s chest, right beside her heart.

She looked down and her smile faltered slightly at the sight before she fixed a smug smile back on her face and rose her chin in defiance, ignoring Hermione’s wand and looking the witch right in the eyes.

Harry's heart plummeted as he took in the readings.

“You idiot.” He grit out, head dizzy with the problem before them.

The metallic sching bulldozed against his mind and he flinched as Dumbledore's face invaded his vision before blinking out again. He adjusted his grip on his wand, his palms slick with sweat and hands trembling by his sides.

“I don’t think so.” Tiffany sang back at them, her high tone resonating in Harry's head and clanging against his eyeballs. “This way, you can’t kill me.”

“We were never going to kill you! Just because Kronos murders, doesn’t mean we will. I mean, Christ, did the safe house not give that away?” Harry yelled, brain sputtering and whirring, working furiously to try and solve this ridiculous _insane_ problem.

_Who ties an enchantment to their heart and consciousness?! May as well just go the whole way and bind in the soul as well! Fuck, fuck. There was no way they could break such a large scale and deeply rooted enchantment without serious backlash and possible spell splintering. Tiffany would die outright. No questions asked. And, depending on how long the enchantment had had to take hold, the other tethers of the spell, that each of them gained the moment it had first sunk its hook into them, could fracture leaving behind shards of the spell like slivers of glass in their minds. There was no easy way out. Unless? Unless they literally took the spell out of the girl… could they do that? Was that possible?_

Fog swirled and billowed in his mind making it difficult to think.

“Hermione?” Harry called. “Can we re-anchor it?”

Harry could practically hear the cogs clicking in Hermione’s brain as she calculated and recalculated how likely that was to work and how much spellcraft would have to go into re-anchoring such a strong enchantment, made heavier and more unwieldy with the weight of the Old Religion.

“We’ll need a strong container.” Hermione finally responded, her wand never wavering from Tiffany’s forehead.

Tiffany’s eyes widened in fear.

“No! You can’t!” She cried.

“Why not?” Harry cut her off. “We’re trying to save your life, why are you fighting that?”

“Save my life?!” She mocked, a hysterical laugh bubbling out of her and making her dagger held to Hermione’s chest shake. “How is this saving my life?”

“If we break that enchantment clean through, you’ll die. We’re going to remove it from you before we destroy it.”

“What do you mean I’ll die? Don’t try and lie to me. Kronos would never have given one of his favoured something that would kill them.”

Harry gaped at her naivety.

He remembered her greedy look as he kneeled, incapacitated and at their mercy on the ‘Princess Andromeda’. How could she have seen that and still believe that her leader would not immediately turn around and do the same to her if it suited him?

“Harry, we can’t cast magic at her if we want to do this. The energy will destabilise the enchantment and drag the forming anchors.” Hermione warned.

Harry ran his hands through his hair in indecision.

His eyes met Silena’s and the promise he'd made to Beckendorf tugged at his conscience. He had to keep them all safe, and there was only one way he could see to do that.

He made the call.

“Start the re-anchoring. I’ll do the vessel, just tell me the key numbers. Silena can keep Tiffany in place.”

Everyone froze for a moment, the ultimatum ringing in the silence.

Tiffany’s eyes blew wide in panic before her expression shrunk and hardened. She simply didn’t believe they would spare her once they’d removed the enchantment. The Aphrodite girl was the only obstacle between herself and the door with the two wixen distracted.

She leapt forward with an animalistic snarl and furiously defended against the girl’s parrying blow.

Silena almost stumbled when Tiffany lunged at her. The attack was unexpected and Silena’s rounders bat hung uselessly from her left hand. She snatched a dagger from Tiffany’s belt and drew it up in a swift undercut from the girls pocket up to meet her lunging forearm. Tiffany blocked it and kneed her in the stomach.

Silena bent over, winded and stumbled back out of arm’s reach in defence. She straightened, the image of Charlie’s watching brown eyes and crossed arms judging her in her mind. He urged her on with the skill and experience the memory of their sparring sessions provided and the determination to finish this fight the victor so she could see him again at camp. Harry had promised he would talk to her. Silena wasn’t going to waste that chance.

Tiffany dove forward again brandishing her knife and Silena swung her rounders bat. It connected with Tiffany’s hand with a sickening crack that echoed through the room and cut through Hermione and Harry’s furious conference about the numbers and symbols and magical whatnot they needed to re-anchor such strong magic from a living container without hurting anyone. Tiffany screamed in pain and opened her palm out to Silena, crouching low over her mutilated hand and breathing heavily. A blast of wind congealed in the girl’s hand and lashed out at Silena.

“You like that?” She gasped, the mocking tone marred by her obvious pain. “Mummy dearest passed on quite a few tricks.”

Silena shook her head, trying to rid herself of the fog that had descended with her crash against the wall.

“You’re a daughter of Hecate?” She wheezed.

“The one and only.”

Silena staggered to her feet, heart plummeting to her shoes. She was outmatched. If Tiffany started using magic there was no way she could beat her. Charlie’s face filled her vision. She couldn’t lose. She couldn’t. She did the one thing she could think of that had helped her before when she had been pinned in a corner with no escape. She prayed to her mother. Dimly she was aware that Tiffany was muttering under her breath, doing the same and asking for a blessing of magic.

She poured all her love for Charlie into the prayer. All the possibility of their reconciliation, all the heartache of her betrayal. Everything she felt, she imbued the prayer with.

A waft of perfume fluttered back and Silena slumped in relief. Her mother had heard. Now she just had to wait.

She relaxed too soon.

Hecate had heard her daughter’s plea. Hecate had answered the summons.

A golden rip rent through the air and slammed through the shimmering ropes Harry and Hermione had tied with magic between the enchantment, Tiffany and the new vessel. Roiling black mist tore through every line, code and symbol of magic they had cast ripping the magic to shreds and engulfing the magic into its own boiling mass.

Hecate stepped through, regal in the destruction. She turned to her daughter.

“Child. What have you done.” She rumbled, orange light flaring in the cloying smoke around her.

“Mother- mother, they seek to kill me. They will break my enchantment and take my life in revenge.” Tiffany stuttered, eyes blown wide with adrenalin and shock that her mother had not only answered but appeared.

Hecate regarded her daughter, her long black hair billowing in the heat streams from the fire beneath.

“This is stolen magic.” She concluded, her head tilted. “Where did you come by the earth magic? Was it forced upon you?”

“No! No, I accepted it’s strength.” Tiffany responded, eager to please and gain her mother’s favour, the goddesses' lack of immediate action ratcheting up her heartbeat and making her palms sweaty.

“I see.” Hecate hummed. She turned her back on her daughter.

“Harry Potter. I knew saving your life would provide further entertainment.” She greeted Harry, who was standing body angled sideways to the goddess, protecting his godson, face unreadable.

He inclined his head.

“Your choice of destination was questionable, but I made the best of a bad situation. I thank you for your intervention.” He responded carefully.

Hecate seemed amused by this. Tiffany fidgeted behind her.

“You did not find Calypso to your liking?” Hecate questioned.

“I rather think it was mutual.” Harry replied, a touch of dryness creeping into his tone.

Hecate guffawed loudly.

Silena was lost. Utterly and completely lost.

“I knew I liked you for a reason.” Hecate shook her head, smoke drifting down in tendrils down her back from her dark curls. “We’ll put your fraternisation with Emrys down to infrequent poor taste and leave it at that shall we?”

Harry quirked a smile, but did not respond.

Hecate turned back to her daughter and narrowed her eyes at the green pulsing orb buried in Tiffany’s chest. Tiffany backed away under the scrutiny until her back hit the wall behind her.

“I suppose this is the pesky mind invader that is giving you so much trouble?” She called over her shoulder back at Harry, gesturing to the glowing mass.

“That’d be the one yes. Mind giving us a hand so we don’t accidentally fracture the mind of your daughter?”

Hecate snapped some enormous goggles onto her eyes. Silena was surprised she hadn’t noticed them on the goddess’s head before, they were rather eye-catching.

“She was stupid enough to take it into her without knowing the recoil cost.” Hecate hummed.

Tiffany’s eyes filled with tears and she started shaking. Silena actually felt rather sorry for her.

“Potter. Why are you struggling with this?” Hecate questioned in bewilderment, straightening from her scrutiny and vanishing the goggles in a snap of her fingers.

Harry stared at the Witch-Goddess.

“Because it’s extremely advanced and ancient magic and I didn’t want to screw it up and kill us all?” Harry responded, sarcasm practically dripping from his tone.

Hecate looked at him.

“Potter you are a god.”

“Flattered though I am by your confidence –“

“Potter stop jibbering. I will repeat it once and not again: you are a god, reality is not your only tool.”

Harry looked as though someone had just thoroughly whacked him over the head with Silena’s rounders bat.

“Oh.”

“Now he gets it.”

“Ohhh.”

“For magic’s sake, godling, you ascended half a decade ago you’d think you’d have got the hang of this by now.”

“In my defence, I haven’t really had much call to access them before.”

If Silena was lost before she was stranded with no oars in fog in the middle of the Atlantic with a broken radio now.

Hecate rubbed her hands together, ignoring how they sparked like lighting tinder as she did so.

“This should be interesting.” She muttered.

Harry turned to Tiffany with a determined look in his eye. The girl looked as though she were about to pass out on the spot.

Harry screwed up his face in concentration, his tongue peeking out as he focused.

For a second everything became heavier. The air pressed down on her and a terrible pressure weighed down her lungs and stopped her breath from filling. The lines of the room became sharper and seemed to stab out at her from their outlines. Colours started to needle and prick and her heartbeat pounded so hard in her chest, she could practically feel it battering against her ribcage.

She had never felt terror like this.

White mist began to cascade from his palms and Silena felt a sense of calm overwhelm her. She had never felt so at peace, so at one with everything around her. The colours faded back into mere colour and the world softened.

The dust motes swirling in the slanting yellow light from the window danced in greeting. The ground pushing up under her feet, pulled her down and rooted her in place. The world seemed to just click into place, in a shift jarring only in that she hadn’t noticed the cogs had missed each other before they had aligned again.

A shimmering tear carefully sliced through the air in front of Tiffany and sucked the green twisting parasite into it, painstakingly pulling each lingering tendril, each stretching strand until the entire thing was removed and Tiffany slumped back against the wall, hair sweaty and face rigid in pain at the sudden vacuum within her she hadn’t even realised the enchantment had carved.

Harry made a sudden twist with his hand and ripped the air in front of him with a slice of his wand, shoving the madly struggling green ball into the jar he’d been preparing earlier.

He panted with the effort and wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his free hand. The jar tilted alarmingly and he jumped forward, corking it with a conjured stopper that he then dripped red glooping wax onto to seal, the candle plucked from thin air and lit with a twist of his fingers on the wick.

The room around them seemed to settle once more. No longer oscillating between jagged edges and harsh shadows, and cascading mist and soft air. It was just - normal.

Silena let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

Harry sagged against the table and prodded the bottle in suspicion. He smiled tiredly in response when the green mass lashed out back at him but was blocked by the glass reinforced with so much magic Silena didn’t even want to think about it.

He picked it up gingerly and presented it to Hecate.

“Spoils.” He offered simply.

Hecate snapped her fingers and it burst into a swirling inferno of green screaming flame.

Harry and Hermione both flinched.

“That could have killed us all if it hadn’t been completely removed!” Hermione accused in outrage at the goddess.

“Then he would have done a poor job.” Hecate returned.

Harry stared wide eyed at her.

“What the fuck.” He asked, all sense of the jokey camaraderie that had been tentatively forming between them lost.

“It is not my fault if you cannot harness your own powers, godling. I interfered out of professional curiosity, nothing more.”

Harry glared at Hecate, hands balling into fists by his sides.

“And your daughter?” He demanded.

“I answered her call. That is more than Aphrodite’s daughter can say for her own mother.”

Silena looked down and studied the floor intently. It was true. Aphrodite had heard, Silena knew she had, she had sent the perfume in acknowledgment.

She had heard. And she hadn’t come.

“And this is the mighty Olympian council I fight for.” Hecate snorted, gesturing at the silent daughter of Aphrodite. “I find I can hardly begrudge my daughter her sentiments.” She continued, sparing Tiffany an appraising glance. “She would have my greater sympathy if she honed her own power rather than stealing others.” She added pointedly.

“How is the fight against Typhon going?” Harry asked, his curiosity apparently winning out over his resentment of the goddess.

“It would go a lot better if Zeus would retreat.” Hecate snarled, the fires flaring at her feet and filling the room with the scent of smoke.

“Surely that would allow Typhon to gain too much ground?” Hermione cut in.

“It would allow a second force of minor gods with more varying powers an opening. The god-king would do well to remember there are other destructive forces than the Storm.”

“How long can he hold?” Harry demanded, clearly rethinking and reviewing their own battle plans in light of Hecate’s revelations.

“I have no idea.” Hecate shrugged back. “Who knows what tactic Zeus will order next? He flips on a coin from one plan to the next, Hera can barely guide him. He his mad with his desire to prove himself.”

“Prove himself?” Silena found her voice. Surely the god-king, of all beings, had nothing to prove.

Hecate smirked at her. “For eons he has sat on his throne safe in the knowledge of his security. A prophecy long-since thwarted telling of his deposition. He thinks himself invincible. Then this one comes along, whelp that he is – “ She gestured to Harry was standing stoically in the middle of the room taking in her tale. “And suddenly, prophecy is not the certain force it once was. He is uncertain. Unbalanced. And it changes his rule. He sees doubt now in people’s eyes where once there could only have been fear.”

“He knows I care not for his throne.” Harry said firmly, unknowingly slipping into the formal tone of ritual.

“Your intentions do not matter. Your existence is enough.”

“That’s insane!” Harry yelled back. “He knows I only care about the kids. Why the hell would I want to rule Olympus?”

Hecate shrugged. “who can say how his despotic mind works these days. It’s had eons to decay.”

“But you still fight for him.” Harry pointed out.

“For now. It is the best chance of survival.” Hecate returned calmly, and somewhat ominously Silena felt. She wasn’t sure she was entirely comfortable with how flippant Hecate was about insulting the god-king, when the titans stood so close to victory.

It was dissent closer to home than anyone wanted.

Hecate regarded them all for a long moment.

“I am needed elsewhere.” She finally said.

Harry inclined his head stiffly. “Our thanks for your assistance.”

Hecate smirked at him. “Hestia would never have let me hear the end of it if you died.” She said airily, and disappeared in a swirling column of fire that seared at Silena’s nose and made her stagger back with the wave of heat.

Before she’d even found her feet, Hermione had shot a stunner and cushioning charm at Tiffany, the girl toppling gracefully to the floor.

Harry fell back against the table massaging is forehead and gradually removing his cloak and freeing Teddy from his protective confinement.

The little boy stared up at his godfather with wide eyes.

“Did Daddy just do god-magic?” He questioned, his eyes as round as saucers.

“Yeah, Teddy.” Harry replied heavily. “Daddy just did god-magic. And he won’t be doing it again.” He carefully set Teddy on the floor and bent over double resting his face in his hands and massaging at his eyes.

“Why not?” Silena asked in bafflement.

“The cost.” Hermione replied knowingly.

Harry nodded his head tiredly, still not raising his head.

“The cost?” Silena questioned, unsure if she was pushing her luck.

Harry heaved a breath and removed his glasses, one hand rubbing at his temples and trying to ease the stress lines that hat gauged trenches in his disarmingly youthful face.

“There are many gods, Silena.” He finally responded. “And power is addictive. You must know your boundaries. You must not push your limits. It is a constant seesaw that must never tip one way.”

Silena nodded, though she didn’t quite understand.

“Are we safe then? Is the enchantment gone?”

Harry finally straightened.

“Yes. We’re safe for now.” His head tilted to the ceiling.

“We’re safe.”


	14. To Kill the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own rien, nil point, nothing.
> 
> sorry for the wait....and also how short this chapter is....I did say it wasn't a habit didn't I? 
> 
> Happy reading!!

Hecate stepped out of the rent in the air with a sigh and a roll of her eyes at Ganymede’s dramatics when she took in the room. The cup-bearer had formed a three walled room hanging in the sky suspended between four planes of existence; the open wall facing out over the Atlantic Ocean providing a stage from which to observe the fight with Typhon.

All of this was expected and not the cause for her exasperation. No. The cause for this particular irritation was the careful replication of the second-floor salon of Le Procope as it had been in the 18th Century when Ganymede had had far too much fun posing as a bartender there in order to flirt with the revolutionaries. His use of the setting now to watch the battle between Zeus and Typhon betrayed his irritation at having to make it at all.

She flopped into the hard-backed wooden chair and propped her feet up on the small rectangular table in front of it, lazily levitating the ink well, uncorked wine bottle and pewter candle holder with candle burning lazily and impossibly with the wind howling through the room out of the way. She narrowed her eyes at the candle. It turned bright green in a flick of her fingers and suddenly flared into a pillar of flame before dying to the smallest ember. She released control of the flame with a huff and it sputtered back to life hesitantly.

Idly, she cast her gaze around the room and lit all the candles in the wall sconces with a click, casting a green glow over the gathered minor gods and goddesses all lounging around in similar states of restlessness and boredom. Ganymede sashayed up to her table and filled her conjured goblet with a wink before disappearing again. She turned back to the battle.

Dionysus had fallen days ago and there was a betting poll as to which of the Olympian Council would follow him next. The book was closed on Poseidon and Hades as they were busy defending their own domains. Demeter had also refused to fight along with her daughter Persephone. Hecate sipped her drink and tilted her head, examining the Father of All Monsters. Had this been a week ago, in all honesty she would probably be petrified in fear, unable of rational thought, let alone judgy condescension. However, a week of being side-lined in a battle but continuously forced to watch its progress had desensitised her somewhat to the spectacle.

Hecate reached for the bottle and topped her pewter tankard up to the rim. She turned back to glaring at the battle she was forced to watch but forbidden from assisting with.

It chafed. Particularly as the god-king was losing.

Hestia and Ganymede flopped into the chairs opposite her, Ganymede with a dramatic lean onto the table and wipe of his brow with the sash of his toga.

“So how was it?” Ganymede prompted.

Hecate barely spared him a glance.

“Emrys, wasn’t there if that’s what you’re asking.” She returned drily. “Just Harry Potter forgetting he’s a god and my daughter using stolen magic to start a revolution, nothing earth-shattering.”

“Well, it’s more interesting than this, I can assure you that.” Ganymede griped, gesturing vaguely at the open wall and divine confrontation.

“Is Harry Potter safe?” Hestia asked, her eyes round and earnest and little hands folded on the table in front of her.

“Yes, yes your crush is safe, I made sure of that before I left.” Hecate dismissed.

“He’s not my crush.” Hestia protested hotly.

“But he’d make an _excellent_ pontifex.” Ganymede goaded.

“He’ll have to make an excellent war general soon if Zeus doesn’t hurry up.” Hecate diverted the well over worn conversation of the existence of Hestia’s crush.

Ganymede’s free hand balled into a fist and he slammed his goblet onto the table, wine sloshing over the side.

“If this takes much longer it won’t be down to Zeus.” He ground out.

Hecate looked at him properly for the first time since entering.

“You truly mean that?” She asked lightly, but they all knew the seriousness of the claim.

Ganymede glanced at her before quickly looking away.

“There is a reason for the choice of room other than nostalgia, Hecate.” He replied.

They examined each other for a long moment, Hestia glancing anxiously between them, before they both turned back to the contest of strength and will clashing before them with identically blank faces.

“Nemesis is always a surety but who else eyes the felt cap?” Hecate asked casually. Hestia’s eyes widened at the implication.

Ganymede considered his nails, picking out non-existent dirt and buffing them against his toga.

“Janus.” He replied, still eying his nails. “Alatheia. Eros.” Hecate sucked in a sharp breath.

“Are you ma-“

“Apollo.” Ganymede cut her off.

Silence descended over their table for a long moment as Hecate stared into the downturned eyebrows and unhappy set of Ganymede’s mouth as he studied the ground in front of them.

“Eros wishes to meet with you.”

Hecate carefully placed her goblet on the table.

“How far is he willing to go.” She finally responded, carefully weaving privacy charms around them in a complex pattern, her fingers sparking and flaming with the magic

Ganymede looked around nervously.

“Nothing drastic.” He hedged. “Merely suggesting an alliance for the aftermath when, perhaps, standing and consequence on Olympus will move with greater fluidity than otherwise.”

Hecate narrowed her eyes.

“Zeus is terrified he will be deposed because of the nullity of the Prophecies. He is unstable, erratic. He will lead us to loss and I will _not_ be chained to a giant.” She responded. “You have passed on your message from Eros. I will hear him.”

Ganymede smiled in relief that she had accepted his message and made to open his mouth. Hecate didn’t let up.

“Kronos has been found at last. The Battle will start tonight and we are _useless_ here.”

Hestia dropped her cup in shock and her face paled with each word that poured furiously from Hecate. All of this had been burning within her for so long, the tiny spark from Ganymede passing on Eros’s message was all it had taken to light the tinder and the bonfire blazed.

“Even if by some miracle of the Fates, Zeus suddenly gains the strength to defeat Typhon without Poseidon and Hades, the demigods and Olympus are undefended. What happens when our anchor and our Belief from them falls? We _must_ act. Calypso has already defied him and saved the fool twice. We can use this. Defy Zeus, defeat Typhon and seize Olympus for the minor gods when this is all over. This is our chance. Calypso has shown he can be defied. If one puny sea-witch can do it, why not us?” She was breathing heavily by the end, face flushed with her fervour.

“Hecate, this is heresy.” Ganymede hissed, shooting to his feet, his chair sliding back with a dull screech against the hard wood floor.

“You knew what you were doing when you passed on the message.” She challenged him.

“Hecate, I did a favour to Eros, nothing more. He suggested an alliance, a possible union to approach Zeus with a readymade fighting unit with which to assist and then gain favour…what you suggest…it is revolution.” He floundered, shaking his head violently but with horrified eyes locked on Hecate’s own.

Hecate rose to her feet too and leant over the table, disregarding Hestia sitting between them and looming over Ganymede who had begun backing away from the table.

“I thought you resented Zeus. Your captor.” She said softly.

“I will always hate him for it, but I will not see Olympus in flames for revenge.” Ganymede returned quietly.

“Ah, well you see, that is the fascinating thing about fire.” Hecate whispered lowering her eyes. “So much is born from the ashes.”

She met his gaze and her eyes burned, her skin glowed with her fervour, her entire being seemed to crackle and flicker with it.

“If you do this, you will hand us to the titans.” Hestia finally found her voice, though it shook slightly in the face of the witch-goddess. “You will doom us all.”

Hecate ran one finger down Hestia’s cheek.

“My dear little pyromaniac, I will _save_ us all. We will lead a force against Typhon and the disgusting minor gods who could not find the strength within to challenge the tyrant themselves. If Eros is as strong as he once was, we will prevail. And then, in the ashes and smoke of the victory, we will rise as the saviours of Olympus and dethrone the god-king.”

Hecate smirked and flashed away.

All the demigods were scattered in various states of shock and recovery around the hearth in the sitting room when Harry finally returned from his pizza run. Merlin had been the last to wake and hadn’t spoken a word the entire time that Harry had carefully manoeuvred him into a seat at the kitchen table, sensing that he needed to be away from the others and Nico’s worried looks for the time being.

He handed the pizza off to Ron with a stern warning to not let Teddy eat too much or he’d be sick and returned to the dimly lit kitchen. The sun was just starting to rise over the skyscrapers of Manhattan and was softly filtering through the open window, staining the white cabinets a daisy yellow.

Merlin sat huddled in his chair, exactly where Harry had left him, staring sightlessly at the table top. His bowl of soup sat untouched before him.

Harry leaned over and lightly tapped the edge with his finger. Steam began to unfurl from the surface and the comforting aroma of homemade tomato soup began to waft through the draughty kitchen and curl languidly into the crisp morning air through the open sash window.

Merlin’s nose twitched slightly, and his fingers pressed against the warm bowl unconsciously seeking comfort.

Harry looked at him for a long moment before clearing his throat.

“It’ll go cold again if you don’t eat it.”

Merlin shuddered.

“Blanket?” Harry asked, already conjuring a soft red quilt that he levitated over the warlock’s shoulders.

Merlin didn’t respond until the soft folds draped all around him. He slowly raised a hand and peered at the red cloth, letting it fall between his fingers. His hand clenched around it and he bowed his head, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes.

“Merlin?” Harry asked softly.

Finally, Merlin raised his head.

“How much longer?” He rasped out.

“What?”

“How much longer will this take? How much more will the Old Religion ask? I can’t do it anymore, I _can’t._ ” He rested his elbows on the table and dropped his head in his hands, refusing to meet Harry’s concern.

Harry chewed his lip, at a complete loss of how to help. It didn’t make the task any easier that he was almost certainly looking at his future as he took in Merlin’s defeated form. Afterall, he too had immortality ahead of him to grow weary of. _Personal crises later, friends who look like wounded puppies now,_ he thought firmly.

“How do you usually manage?” Harry asked, for lack of anything else to say.

Merlin sucked in a breath and yanked the red blanket off his shoulders with a harsh tug, one hand still covering his face.

“It usually doesn’t _hurt_. I am Magic. And Magic is joy and sadness equally. I follow the wonder of nature and just…I don’t know...exist. I can’t do that anymore, though, I can’t.” His voice shook. “I remember them all. Their faces, their voices, clearer than I have in years. I don’t understand.” He lowered his trembling hand and gazed pleadingly at Harry.

“It’s like I’m waking up from a dream – except the dream is still going on around me and the only difference is that I’m awake this time.” Merlin’s eyes darted around the room, searching for the right words to explain. “Like, like everything is brighter, more alive, but – _heavier_ somehow. It feels like a bigger burden, these days, to be alive.”

Harry sat in silence and let Merlin pour it all out. Like purging a septic wound of its putrid ooze, Harry merely allowed Merlin to speak before he made any attempt to help him.

“It’s not – I don’t – I know I can never see Arthur again. I have known this for a long time now. Since the first World War raged around us, and I was powerless to stop it.” Merlin tugged at the blue scarf around his neck, pulling it off and throwing it onto the puddle of red blanket beside his chair.

“For in that there was no easy monster to smite, no enchantment to break. The monster was man – and what could Arthur – one man who had once been king in a very different world - do against that? How could he right those wrongs?” Merlin spread his hands in supplication to Harry, knowing the wizard had no answer to give.

“No one can.” He answered his own question heavily, his hands falling to the table with a muted thud.

“And then it happened again, worse even. And if that was not Albion’s ‘darkest hour’, if there is worse to come, Arthur will not be able to stop it. My purpose is obsolete. This I have known for a century or more, and yet it only truly feels like I’ve just begun to accept it. The Old Religion is wrong; I serve no purpose here.”

He finally broke his burning stare at Harry and vanished the soup bowl with an irritable snap of his fingers, pushing his chair back from the table in the same slump of his shoulders.

“Merlin. You once told me-” Harry began hesitantly. “When we first met, you told me I had no purpose, no task, I only had to ‘be’.” He tilted his head and ducked it slightly in order to confront Merlin's unseeing gaze . “Why can that not be enough for you, also?”

Harry’s breath caught at how _young_ Merlin’s eyes seemed in that moment. Then they clouded with the curtain of eons once more.

“Because then why am I here?”

“Does it matter?” Harry challenged, very aware he was talking about matters he had very little understanding of and slightly terrified that the Old Religion would smite him where he sat for disregarding it and encouraging Emrys to do the same in such a cavalier manner.

“What?” Merlin choked.

“Well – does it matter, really, what the Old Religion wants? If you’re sure Arthur’s not coming, and he really was the only lure in this deal anyways-” Harry was babbling now.

“And saving the world? That doesn’t matter?” Merlin cut him off.

“Well, like you said, we’re fucked anyway.” Harry shrugged. “It’s not like you wouldn’t try to save the world in the ‘darkest hour’, Old Religion or not. I mean, you’re here aren’t you? This isn’t your task and we’re definitely testing the boundaries for how much to mix two pantheons, but you’re still fighting to save us all.”

“Morgana is my responsibility.” Merlin objected.

Harry could see Merlin didn’t quite agree with what Harry was saying, but this was more life than he’d seen in the man since he’d returned from Calypso’s island to find out Excalibur had broken, so Harry counted it a win anyway.

“Yeah, but you were fighting this with me way before we’d worked out she was back. Face it, Merlin. You’re a bleeding heart, and you always will be.”

Harry beamed his most obnoxious ‘I’m right and you know it’ smile at the Ancient Warlock and leaned back in his chair, waving his hand absent-mindedly and summoning a second, steaming bowl of soup. A spoon soon followed clanging offensively loudly against the wooden table top.

Merlin stared at Harry for a heartbeat as though he had never seen the wizard before, before he huffed a disbelieving laugh. He sobered almost immediately. His eyes lowered to where he twirled the spoon in his fingers absentmindedly, once again staring without seeing.

“I wonder if this is how Morgana feels every time she wakes.” He mused.

Harry was just gearing up for an epic shut down of that latest dirt track of depression, when Merlin shook himself out of it and finally dipped the spoon in the soup, gulping down a mouthful of the piping hot liquid and humming in appreciation. He raised his eyes to Harry’s with a self-deprecating smile.

“Fate makes fools of us both.”

Harry raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his dramatics.

“Quite a poet aren’t we? What were you, best friends with Byron?”

“Aonghus’s feathers, no. Terrifying man.” Harry inwardly breathed a sigh of relief at the return of Merlin’s usual shameless antics and summoned himself the strongest coffee he could make, and maintain a healthy pulse, in congratulation.

Merlin tilted his head consideringly and shot a cheeky look at Harry.

“I did know Will Shakespeare though. Gave him a few ideas for ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’.” He chuckled at Harry’s doubtful expression. “I thought Arthur would enjoy it on the off chance he came back for the Spanish War.” Merlin suddenly raised his hands in innocence, face alarmed. “I _didn’t_ give Will the idea to call him ‘Bottom’ though. That’s all on him.”

Harry squinted at Merlin once again frustrated at his inability to call bullshit.

At least he was back to his usual jokey self. In the privacy of his own mind, Harry was worryingly sure that Merlin’s extreme reaction and subsequent break down actually had more to do with his soul than the enchantment, but as they were still no further forward on what was causing that or even what was happening, there was no way he could simply tell Merlin.

He was barely on his second mouthful of coffee when the whole kitchen shook and an enormous groan shuddered the foundations of the apartment, dust falling from the ceiling with the disturbance.

“We’re going to get so many complaints to our landlord by the end of this.” Harry grumbled and waved a hand to clear away the debris as Teddy clattered into the room, hurtling for Harry and jumping into his lap with a force that pushed all the air of his lungs with a sharp ‘oof’.

Not a moment after, Ganymede and Hestia smashed through the open window and collapsed in heap and tangle of limbs and togas onto the kitchen floor.

Harry regarded them a moment where they were flailing and trying, and failing, to extricate themselves from each other. He turned to Merlin.

“Shall I put the kettle on?”

“Can I have hot Ribena?” Teddy piped up from his newly claimed spot on Harry’s lap.

“Certainly, excellent choice, Teddy.”

Teddy puffed his chest out in pride.

Hestia finally stood up, her hair a mess and her toga twisted half round her in a way that can’t have been comfortable.

“No time. No time.” She gasped out, bending over a clutching a stitch in her side.

Harry and Merlin shared an alarmed glance at the state of the two Divine Beings.

“Hecate has gone mad. Some of the minor gods are starting an uprising. Zeus is failing against Typhon and Kronos has been found. The Battle will be today and you will be needed Harry Potter. You must not be hindered by your godson.”

Harry froze.

“Perhaps, not the best way you could have put that, Hestia.” Ganymede muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“We do not have time to pander to his sensibilities!” Hestia whirled on Ganymede. She turned back to Harry and took a step forward.

Harry rose and held Teddy close against his side, backing away from the goddess.

“You must be at your full strength, Harry Potter. The demigods will need all the help they can get.” She entreated Harry.

“Teddy will be protected at my side.” Harry refused stubbornly. Out the corner of his eye he caught Merlin rise slowly and place himself subtly between the goddess and Harry.

“He is a distraction.” Hestia stepped forward again, Ganymede by her side watching on in agitation. “I admire your protection of him, but you are needed. With every fallen demigod, the entire power of Olympus weakens.”

Harry reddened in rage at her words.

“How dare you.” He hissed. “You wish to take my son and give the only reason that you care for my involvement be your own power? Clearly you can’t be trusted with a child if you can only see the power each one brings you.”

“Ignorant godling.” Hestia scoffed back. “I of all people understand. I am Goddess of Hearth and Home for a reason. It did not need to be repeated to you how precious each life is, mortal or divine. But you did not know their influence over us and so I informed you. Do not presume to put words into my mouth.”

Harry relaxed slightly but still cradled Teddy close against his chest. He looked down at the little boy who was already staring back at him with wide eyes.

Teddy’s hair flashed black and his little fingers curled into Harry’s shirt.

“Daddy? Am I gonna be a problem?” He asked quietly.

“No. Never, Teddy. You could never be a problem.” Harry reassured hastily, furious that Hestia had put these thoughts into his head. No five-year-old who had just faced his greatest fear and almost lost his godfather the week before needed to think that he was a burden.

“But – but, Daddy what if you can’t fight because of me and someone gets hurt?”

“That won’t happen, Teddy.”

“But what if it does?”

“It won’t.” Harry cut him off forcefully and then immediately regretted at the look of hurt that flashed across Teddy’s face at being so dismissed. Teddy’s fingers loosened.

“Harry, you held back when the Ceffyl-Dŵr attacked. We all know it. No one can afford that in the coming battle.” Ganymede implored, uncharacteristically softly.

Harry was feeling increasingly cornered and turned pleading eyes on Merlin, while backing against the kitchen wall.

He didn’t find the reassurance and support there he had hoped to see.

Merlin bit his lip and glanced back at Ganymede and Hestia.

“Where were you suggesting?” He asked hesitantly, sending an apologetic look back at Harry, who’s throat had closed at the betrayal and was finding it hard to breathe.

“I will take him and guard him in my temple where the Hearth burns bright.” Hestia stated firmly, her chosen form as a young girl rigid with authority incongruous with her sweet appearance. She turned back to Harry.

“Harry Potter, you once said the safest place was Olympus. Let me prove you right. Let me protect your godson, so you in turn can protect us all.”

Harry opened his mouth but no sound came out.

Teddy wriggled in his arms and Harry instinctively tightened his grip on the boy.

“Daddy, I want to go with her.” He said decisively.

“No – Ted –“

“Daddy. Nico and Percy need you, an’ you can do lots of fighting an’ get the bad guys an’ then just come back an’ we’ll be fine.” Teddy nodded.

“What if something happens to you?” Harry asked weakly.

“Hestia ain’t gonna let that happen.” Teddy returned obstinately.

Percy, Nico and Lou-Ellen’s faces flashed before his eyes and Harry’s stomach clenched with guilt that he was considering leaving them to this war that Harry and Merlin had exacerbated with their involvement. But Harry couldn’t abandon Teddy. But then, was he any better to take him into battle? Why had he even involved himself in this war to start with? The answer settled heavily over his shoulders before he had even finished the question. Harry turned hard eyes to Hestia.

“Would you swear it?”

“What -“

“Would you take the Unbreakable Vow, doubled with the Styx, that you would protect him with your life?” Harry demanded stolidly.

“She is a goddess!” Ganymede protested.

“And he’s my godson. If this means this much, if my involvement is so crucial, she will do this.”

Hestia held Harry’s gaze for a long moment, seeing the determination blaze within him.

Yes, she admired this godling greatly. He would have been her greatest priest had not the very sentiments and spirit that made him burn so brightly, pulled him away from the Greek Pantheon.

Only because it was he that asked was she even considering this.

And the godling was right, Harry Potter’s unhindered involvement in the war was too important to not swear this vow for. Hecate had gone mad and Olympus had never been so close to destruction. For her home, and for his, she would take this binding oath and swear her immortal life for the life of the mortal child.

“I would.” She said quietly in the cacophony of Merlin and Ganymede shouting at each other in defence and objection at Harry’s demand.

Silence echoed deafeningly throughout the room.

“For this cause, I would swear this Oath and bind it with the Styx.”

Harry Potter stilled, small and alone in the centre of the room, clutching his godson to his side in desperate denial.

“You would?” He whispered, eyes never leaving her face. “All three commands?”

“For this.” Hestia confirmed quietly, trying to appear confident in the face of the enormity of her vow. This was the most dangerous thing she had ever done in her eons of living. She tried very hard not to think about what the consequences would be if she failed in her vow.

“Hestia.” Ganymede entreated her, tugging on her hand and trying to gain her attention. “You cannot be serious. The vow-“

“Ganymede. No. I will do this. I ask the greatest price of Harry Potter to relinquish the responsibility of his charge’s safety. In turn he has asked the greatest price of me.” Her eyes never left Harry Potter’s face. He did not flinch at her evaluation of his demand, rather raised his chin and met her gaze dead on.

“With Emrys as our witness.” Harry Potter called over the whispers of his godson that he would not regret his choice and that he’d be very good for ‘Miss Hestia’ and he didn’t need to worry and shouldn’t be silly. Hestia didn’t smile at the little boy’s reassurances and address of her. Every word seemed to strike Harry Potter like a nail in the coffin and he almost faltered walking the short expanse of the kitchen to meet her in the middle, Merlin in between them, staff in hand to bind them.

Hestia outstretched her right hand, palm trembling slightly.

Harry Potter hesitated and glanced once more at his godson. The boy blinked back at his godfather, a pout beginning to form on his small features.

“Daddy, don’t-“

“Be silly, I know, Ted.” Harry Potter finished, barely audible as he closed his eyes against the sight as though it physically pained him. He carded one hand through the boy’s black hair and his eyes tightened minutely, the tendons in his neck standing out with the force of the tension he was holding within his body.

His eyes snapped open and he took Hestia’s outstretched hand in a firm grip.

A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from Merlin’s staff and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire.

High up in the sky Calypso hacked and choked on the noxious smoke spewing from Typhon’s matted hair. Great black clouds of smog hovered and smothered her with his fumes and she was once again forced to retreat.

She had already saved the god-king’s life twice on this mission of assistance but his demands for her to retreat had not seized in their insistence.

She rallied and grasped hold of the wind once more, hoisting herself up into the slip stream of gushing air and racing through the sky, as she had taught herself to do with the centuries of isolation on Ogygia. Her hair whipped about her and escaped her braid, and her toga flapped wildly. The folds of fabric struck against her arms and stung her skin red.

“My lord, you must retreat!” She hollered at the god-king. Zeus was once more charging up his master bolt, the spear already sparking and glowing with a wild energy, shining so brightly it left spots in her eyes when she looked away.

She saw Typhon’s hundred fingered hand swing back, slow in its enormity.

“My lord!” She bellowed, seeing the strike was directly aimed at Zeus as he flew suspended at the centre of a cyclone, toga singed and armour bent and misshapen around him but still somehow imposing.

It had been two days since Zeus had launched this last assault and Typhon had responded with ruinous strength. Two days and still Zeus would not retreat.

Her words were snatched by the howling wind and she began to dive desperately, bewildered why the god-king had not moved from his position when Typhon had clearly marked the eye of the storm for his next great blow.

Typhon’s hand began to swing down.

Still Zeus did not move.

Flames erupted from the serpents’ heads on the behemoth’s hand and surged outwards in a torrent of fiery destruction. The air itself collapsed around them from their divine heat and Calypso turned her face from the searing glow.

Still Zeus did not move.

Had he not seen?

Had he not heard?

Calypso steepened her dive in dread. Eyes watering as the air whistling passed her dried them, but she refused to blink or turn away. She had saved him twice, she would do it again and earn her freedom.

The flaming hand was swinging closer. Closer.

The sky raged around them and wind knifed into Calypso’s cheeks, screaming at her and stealing her voice and calls to move, to watch out, to beware, to save himself.

Zeus readied his master bolt, hefting it like a lance to meet the blow.

Lightning point to nuclear furnace.

The blows struck.

The blast detonated across the atmosphere bursting Calypso’s ear drums and igniting the heavens with an explosion brighter than the centre of a collapsing star.

Blinded by the light so bright, so white, it had fractured itself into a cacophony of colours. Divinity laced blue, ichor twisted gold, crimson red, black so dark it seemed to suck in and absorb its surrounding colours, and all these streaking and layering and fabricating new colours, new echoes, new blasts. A thousand explosions in one ricocheted from this single meeting of blows.

And from its centre. At its point. Zeus fell, deep to the earth, plummeting from his final act of hubris.

Forgotten by the people. Betrayed by the gods. Denied by his children. The God-king fell.

And did not rise.


	15. The Battle of Manhattan: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are flung out the window, beasts are killed and choices are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I am so so sorry for how long the wait for this chapter was. Thank you so much for everyone still reading and I hope you all had a good few weeks!
> 
> As always, I own nothing and happy reading!!

Everyone felt it when Zeus, king of kings, died.

The Fates screamed and writhed as thread after thread unravelled from their loom, with every knotted snarl twisting their veins in tandem. Golden wire that had not moved in so long that it had rusted into place, snapped and bent forming a new picture, a new future. 

Hecate flared her torch and a horde of gods and goddesses streamed off the platform towards Typhon, parting around her and Eros in the centre like a rushing stream.

Kronos lifted his arms in exultation as the Pantheon’s greatest anchor fell away and raised his head to the heavens where the storm eclipsed the sky. He had not expected the God-King to be so foolish. It accelerated his plans. They attacked at dawn.

Hera turned her face and raised her hood, dropping her shield onto the rock behind her with a muted clang.

Harry and Merlin both stumbled and fell to the floor from the rattle of the Greek Pantheon unmooring, lost in a sea of reality without the anchor of Belief in the God-king. The Balance snapped and stretched around them as, as though Zeus's death had been the signal, Morgana began to awake creature after creature in an unstoppable tide. The already delicate balance pitched and plunged, threatening to collapse at any moment as more and more dark creatures joined the fray. The combination caused the pressure on their minds to grow until it felt like their skin was stretching out to cover the room.

Harry raised a hand to his pounding head and groaned. Across the room, Merlin gasped and rolled over, panting with the effort of not throwing up.

The only sound in the room for a moment was their heaving breaths as both attempted to ground themselves in the swirling storm around them. Greek magic and Old Religion magic mixed and tumbled through the room, inverting colours and exploding smells. Wet grass after a thunderstorm, Greek spices crackling over a flame, silver tarnished with blood, sweat and tears and sea. It was everything and nothing at the same time, happening over every plane and mistranslating into the next in a dizzying domino cascade.

Eventually, Harry grasped the back of the kitchen chair in a vice like grip and rose on unsteady feet, slipping slightly on the red blanket still pooled on the floor.

He picked up the blue scarf and chucked it at Merlin.

“Here, you’re going to need it.” He said and stumbled to the kitchen door.

Behind him, Merlin fumbled the catch and stared at the back of Harry’s head with an unfathomable gaze.

Harry’s hand, still shaking, was resting on the door handle, when Merlin finally spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

Harry twitched as though flicking off an irritating fly.

“You did what you thought was right. I can’t ask for more than that.”

Well that was a lie. Harry would very much like to ask for more than that. He wanted his head to stop pounding. He wanted Morgana to stop doing shit. He wanted his godson safe and by his side and for people to stop asking him to make sacrifices and thinking that if they made one in return it somehow lessened Harry’s burden. He wanted his _friends_ to stop making decisions for him, even if they thought it was for his own good.

Because, quite frankly, that was the only way Harry could see that Merlin had reasoned this one to himself. He had always been less invested in the Greek war than Harry. Had always urged for Harry to back out and keep Teddy safe if he wanted. Why the change of heart now? 

All this and more Harry wanted to yell at Merlin, to question him, to accuse him, to plead with him. But the words curdled in his mouth.

“I had to.” Merlin said.

Harry swallowed.

“Yeah. I figured it would be something like that.”

The door handle cracked against the wall behind him when he swung it open and strode through.

Harry entered the sitting room to muffled shouting from Percy on the phone down the hall.

“What do you mean time’s slowing down?” Filtered through the door about an octave higher than Percy’s usual tone and Harry scrubbed a hand down his face in exhaustion.

 _Gods and wizards and warlocks weren’t enough, were they? No, Doctor Who had to shimmy over to wade into the battle too._ Harry swore in that moment that if he ever found out that Doctor Who was real, he’d never read another book or listen to another myth again. There was too much of a horrifying possibility it could be true.

The door banged open and Percy walked through, Annabeth looking stressed beside him.

“Okay everybody IM the teams, I need to talk to them all. Kronos is making a move.”

Harry nodded in acknowledgement at Ron, Hermione and a much more composed Neville than the last time he had seen the man as they came to stand by him. He steadfastly ignored Merlin’s quiet entrance into the room.

When he noticed the askance looks many of the demigods were giving him at the lack of Teddy by his side, he forced the blank mask that he had perfected over years of cooking in Aunt Petunia’s kitchen onto his face. Hermione shot him a worried glance, but a quick shake of his head rebuffed her and she turned to face Percy and Annabeth.

Harry’s lips quirked a half-smile at the thought that all the IM messages lining up around Percy made him look like a captain pulling up video feeds on some spaceship. Harry reckoned Percy would be pretty chuffed with that similarity and made a mental note to tell him at some point before remembering they were going into literal battle and there tended to not be time for those sorts of conversations when fighting for your lives.

A piercing taxicab whistle so loud a boy in the corner of the room fell off his pouffe in shock called them all to attention. Percy stifled a smirk at the beet red demigod and turned on his heel to face the IM screens.

“Right everyone. Good news and bad news.”

Drew snorted in her IM circle.

“Jackson, we’re going to war with _Titans._ Other than if they’ve decided to just _not attack_ , there is no good news.”

Percy cocked his head to the side and considered that for a second.

“That’s fair. It’s more _huh_ news anyway, so I’ll take that.”

“Percy get on with it.” Annabeth said acerbically from beside him.

Harry bit back a smile at the byplay.

“Okay then, the Hermes scouts have reported large forces using the Staten Island Ferry around Ellis Island.”

Harry’s eyes caught sight of a small round sand dollar threaded onto Percy’s camp necklace that he was rubbing absentmindedly.

“Me and Annabeth are going to take that one.”

“Annabeth and I.” Malcom corrected before looking down with burning cheeks to avoid everyone’s incredulous looks.

Percy rolled his eyes and cleared his throat to regain everyone’s attention.

“The scouts have also reported some sort of spell being put over the whole city. We suspect Morpheus, considering everyone is just falling asleep where they are. Like, literally in the middle of the road. But we’re not sure he’s powerful enough to do this on his own so there may be another unknown entity hanging around - bear that in mind when we take the tunnels.”

Will Solace looked up from his place beside Nico leaning against the sofa.

“Wait, everyone? What about the hospitals?”

Percy stared at him for a moment then cursed so creatively the Stoll brothers whistled in appreciation.

Hermione jumped in with a solution.

“Ron and I can take those. We can ward all the flash point areas. Restaurants and bakeries will have left ovens on as well, we can try and minimise the number of fires this will result in.”

“Will your magic work against this spell?” Percy questioned dubiously, halting his creative diatribe at the offer of a solution. The Stoll brothers seemed disappointed Percy hadn’t had longer to work up a steam.

Hermione smiled, satisfaction glinting in her eye.

“We’re awake, aren’t we?” She said, gesturing to Ron and Neville behind her.

Percy sagged in relief.

“Brilliant. Okay you two get on that-”

“What about MACUSA though?” Ron objected, a frown creasing his forehead. “If wards stop the spell, surely they should be fine? And I don’t know about you, but I think MACUSA would have something to say about such a huge spell being cast actually _over_ their headquarters.”

Hermione’s smugness intensified until even Ron was looking slightly apprehensive.

Hermione was amazing and brilliant, but it was sometimes worrying when she was _too_ pleased about something. In the ministry it generally meant a pureblood was going to have a very, very bad day.

“I keyed the wards using Harry as a base imprint. I highly doubt they did the same.”

Ron’s face cleared and he looked at her in wonder.

“You are brilliant, you know that, right?”

Percy cleared his throat.

“And for those of us who don’t speak magic?”

Harry bit his lip at the slight disgruntlement in Percy’s tone at that and caught Merlin’s eye who was also hiding a smile. Harry looked away immediately.

“She means it’s just a different ward setting. This’ll work.” He translated.

“Good. The lack of mortals changes the plan slightly, but if you can mov-”

Whatever Percy had been about to say next was drowned out by a great shrieking squealing coming from outside. Annabeth whipped round.

“It can’t be.” She whispered.

“But that sounds like-” The deafening ' _REET'_ ' shattered through the room again and cut Percy off.

“Everyone portkey to your bridges and tunnels! We’re assuming a down to midtown attack. IM us if something goes wrong and stay safe!” Harry yelled, whirling his cloak around his shoulders.

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and his staff lengthened and stretched into reality, dropping into his hand with a surge of power that blew the smell of forget-me-nots into the room with the whirring of a butterfly’s wing.

Merlin twirled his staff and tucked it under his arm in a practiced move, not once breaking stride until he met Harry at the front door. Harry lowered his wand from unlocking the wards and his eyes met Merlin’s.

He nodded once at the warlock and dove outside, cloak billowing behind him.

Outside was already carnage. Cars had gridlocked in the streets, though many had apparently begun to pull over when they’d felt themselves dropping off. This had the unfortunate effect of clearing a slight gangway in the middle of the roads through which waves and waves of carnivorous sheep, dracanae, empousa, changelings and for some reason, an enormous Pelican with glowing red eyes were mobbing through, leaving destruction in their wake.

The source of the deafening squeal remained ominously absent.

Behind him, Ron and Hermione dashed off to begin warding the hospitals and fire hazards, trusting Harry to cover their backs. Percy and Annabeth raced to the nearest statue to activate Plan 23 before they too hurried off to their task of stopping the Staten Island Ferry reinforcements.

The sounds of battle cries and baying monsters ricocheting off the building walls from all directions confirmed that the other teams had all port keyed successfully to their designated positions and had already begun to engage the enemy. Kronos had almost overwhelmed them with the surprise attack on the back of Zeus’s fall but their hours of planning and strategizing allowed them to begin to level the initial advantage back against the Titans.

That being said, Harry still cursed the god-king’s appalling timing. Now was not the time to be dying.

Harry took a deep breath and sprang into action. He shouted a spell and an enormous blast of wind toppled every monster in a ten-metre radius to the floor, piling them into an indeterminable heap of armour, claws and blood-stained wool.

The rolling wind caught under the Pelican’s wings and sent it hurtling into the side of a building where it cracked against the stone with a satisfying thwack. Brick dust and mortar came away with the enormous bird as it ricocheted off the wall and began to plummet, unable to get its wings under itself in time before it cannonballed against the floor. The fall wasn’t enough to kill it, but it certainly took the beast out of the battle for a few minutes, affording them precious minutes to fend off the monsters bearing down upon them on the ground.

“Are there more ones that can fly?” Harry yelled over the crashing sounds of hundreds of monsters bottlenecked into the narrow streets of New York and lusting for carnage.

“Almost certainly!” Merlin shouted back, swinging his staff in a wide circle and sending a concentrated whip of fire from the end slicing through several dracanae, who had been attempting to surround him. Merlin yelled a warning and Harry ducked as the whip lashed out again, severing an empousa in two over his head.

“Shouldn’t someone be guarding Olympus, then?!” Harry’s mind flashed to Teddy in Hestia’s temple.

“They are! The wind gods are on it!” Merlin called back breathlessly, more preoccupied with rolling to the side as the Pelican recovered and made a steep dive for the warlock, beak wide open and flapping neck gaping and hungry as it tried to swallow Merlin whole.

Merlin’s hand flashed out as he rolled onto one knee and a concentrated blast of golden magic burst from his palm straight into the Pelican. Its glowing red eyes went cross eyed as it followed the sizzling beam’s path straight into its forehead. It squawked once and its great wings flapped of their own volition as it reared up, towering over the battle field. Its wing span cast them all in shadow and blocked out the dawn light before it fell back, bursting into silver dust and brown earth as it hit the floor. The concussive implosion swept them all back, friend and foe alike and Harry’s feet skidded against the tarmac as he raised his arm, covered in his protective cloak, trying to hold steady against the gushing force.

The battle breathed out a collective breath of relief as the air finally settled. In the stillness, the only sign the Pelican had been there was the gnarled blackthorn sprout creeping its way through the enormous scorch mark upon the tarmac.

Harry took off his glasses and wiped monster dust from the lenses. The peace was short-lived. The hackle-raising shriek of metal scraping against metal rang out in the narrow street as Will Solace behind him fired three arrows in quick succession that each blasted a charging sheep into a cloud of shimmering golden dust and embedded themselves in a Prius car door. Will winced at the damage but continued his attack, pressing his advantage as the monsters around recovered their shock at the fall of the Pelican and started crushing forward once more.

The combined forces of the Old Religion and depths of Tartarus spread through the street around the slumped bodies and beached cars like black oil seeping through water. The son of Apollo continued on, steadily advancing in a deadly path to where his arrows had lodged themselves, Harry assumed in order to retrieve them and return them to his quiver.

Harry jinxed three coblynau around Will’s feet to suddenly and aggressively begin to turn into tea boxes with a rather lovely willow pattern on the front in support of the venture. _Reduce, reuse and recycle and all that_ , he reasoned.

He scanned the battlefield for a moment and took stock. They were outnumbered ten to one, but the obscene numbers were actually working against the enemy. They could barely move, let alone swing a sword. Jammed like sardines, they were easy prey to magic, arrows and skeletons.

Harry and the others could win this. Just. But they would only secure a victory if they kept up their current level of destruction and, unfortunately, the adrenaline was already waning. Time to use the terrain against the enemy.

“Will! Go up high! Nico, shadow behind them!” Harry yelled to the two demigods.

He caught sight of a slight gap in their forces about fifty yards down the road. “Merlin, hold your position! We’re going to contain them!”

Will didn’t look away from his rapid arrow-firing but nodded a jerky dip of his head and called back an inarticulate shout of agreement. Harry took that to mean yes.

Merlin brought his palm and staff together, head bowed as though in prayer and with a yell, his eyes burned golden. The ground contorted and twisted in on itself, swallowing whole four empousa and scores of rabid coblynau that had been swarming like flies around their feet.

Merlin blasted the tarmac where they had sunk, drowning out their enraged snarls of “Myrddin! Myrddin fydd yn marw!”

He immediately banished the debris and shrapnel from the new crater into the advancing monsters behind the first wave. He raised a weak thumbs up to Harry, bending over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Harry took that as a pretty resounding yes.

Harry turned on his heel and apparated to the clean square a block down. At the sound of the crack, a large, ugly fairy type thing spun around and started advancing on Harry, revving a lawn mower menacingly and grinding a grass straw between its teeth, mushing it into a pulp.

 _Strange weapon_ , Harry thought. _But then you’ve got to mix it up occasionally to keep it interesting. Maybe it was a phase? Did monsters even have phases?_ Harry’s feverish brain immediately pictured a teenaged and spotty version of the monster in front of him with a Bowie lightning bolt painted across its face yelling to another hairier monster in a bonnet ‘It’s not a phase, mum!’.

His brain short circuited at the image and Harry very seriously began to wonder if he was finally cracking under the stress.

“So, what are you then?” He asked conversationally.

The demented farmer roared and its withered and rotting fairy wings flared out threateningly.

“Ah, lovely folk.” Harry responded, flicking his wand in a complicated wiggle. The monster froze and stared in horror as its fingers began to dissolve into yellow neon bubbles that floated away and popped with inordinately wet squelches against a shredded Starbucks sign hanging by one corner.

Always nice to know that Teddy’s favourite bubble bath spell also worked on living beings, Harry reflected.

Harry looked around and, with a roll of his eyes, scrambled onto the enormous lawn mower the monster had left behind in order to see over the heads of all of the crowding monsters.

Will was sitting precariously on a traffic light that extended over the road and was firing arrows into the seething mass underneath him, pointedly ignoring Nico’s yells underneath him to get down before he fell.

“You don’t even climb!” The small Italian yelled in frustration stabbing a dracaenae in the stomach behind him with a vicious backhanded plunge.

“And yet, clearly, I’m a natural!” Will yelled back, slightly hysterically, Harry noted.

“Will! Get down! You’re not Gavroche climbing the Madonna bedamned Barricade! You. Are. A. Doctor!” Nico shouted, punctuating each word with a newly raised skeleton warrior from the deep chasm he’d carved into the earth. He paused and heaved for breath.

“Nico! You watch musicals! You've been holding out on me!” Will crowed back with a lopsided grin that morphed into an expression of panic as an axe flew straight at his head. He ducked under it, flinging his arms out in a desperate attempt to balance and stop himself from pitching off the traffic light and to his death on the tarmac ten metres below. His arms flailed. He overbalanced and started to fall.

Harry’s heart jumped into his throat and he thrust his hand out, spell already sparking at his fingertips to catch the teenager, but at the last second, Will’s legs wrapped around the traffic light and he hooked his ankles around each other, halting his freefall with a jerk that pulled at his sockets. He whooped in hysterical success as he looked around wildly and realised he was now dangling upside down.

“Thighs that could crush watermelons I tell you!” He called, slapping his hand against his leg. He slipped down slightly with the movement and froze in fear.

His quiver swung from its strap on his back in the crisp morning breeze and Will blinked dazedly at it before raising his bow to his eye line. A slow grin started to stretch across his features as his eyes turned to the monsters below.

Nico faded out of existence in a cloud of black smoke and rematerialized behind an enormous man with one eye, one foot and one hand that was nonetheless swinging a colossal black pig around. He flung his Stygian Iron sword into the man’s back and followed the momentum through by using the still-lodged sword as a foothold to leap high enough to drive a small black dagger into the man’s head. The Fer Caille collapsed under him in a swirling fog of glittering black dust. He rolled on the floor to cushion his fall and dived to the side with a yelp as an arrow whistled past his head.

“Solace! Are you trying to kill me?!” He roared.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Will called back, sending another arrow that also narrowly missed Nico.

“What the fuck, Will!” Nico squeaked as yet another arrow nearly impaled him. Another almost immediately followed and Nico’s head whipped round, this time following the course of Will’s latest attempt on his life. His eyes widened as he came face to hideous face with a hag two steps behind where he sat sprawled, two arrows lodged in her chest and one wedged in a tarmac crack just behind her. She took a final tottering step and dissipated into a black and golden cloud as she fell forward, covering Nico in monster dust.

“You’re welcome!” Will yelled from above.

Nico growled and tried to dislodge the monster dust from his hair, shaking it out like a wet dog.

Harry scrambled onto a taxi roof and sent up a red firework from his wand. Everyone turned.

“Final assault!” He hollered. “Merlin, put up a barrier on the road - we need to clear this direction!”

“Oh, thank the gods.” Will muttered faintly, his face starting to redden as all the blood rushed to his head as he continued hanging upside down from his yellow traffic light.

Merlin nodded and, without waiting for any sort of signal, slammed the base of his staff into the ground. Harry blinked as a hazy gold-tinged shadow wavered into being in front of Merlin, its ghostly back facing Harry and hand gripping Merlin’s staff over the warlock’s own. The image flickered and disappeared. Harry pushed it the back of his mind. Fabulous. Now he was hallucinating as well as having weirdly vivid mental images of teenage farmer fairies.

A blue translucent wall began to stretch across the entire road, stopping the continuous stream of monsters from the crossroads that the group had been inch by inch pushing back.

The monsters around them soon realised what was happening as they felt the protective magic settle into place and began to froth at the mouth in anger. They surged forward, piling up on top of each other in an effort to reach Will on his traffic light and Nico on his skeleton pile. The extent of their tactics appeared to be to just climb a mound of bodies to reach Harry, Will and the others.

The writhing and seething crush grew steadily higher and Harry was forced a step back on his car away from the snapping jaws.

His hand and wand flickered and flashed in a shower of sparks, moving so fast his wand tip was a glowing blur and wave after wave of spell fire descended in an attempt to keep them at bay.

Piles of golden and silver dust gathered at his feet and he pivoted on his heel once more, desperately trying to watch his own back as well as Merlin’s, while he was busy erecting the enormous shield and trusting Harry to keep him safe.

The golden shadow flickered, a shining beacon in the dirt and grime of battle. It twisted its head and stared straight at Harry.

Harry felt a gaze prickle the back of his neck and turned.

His eyes widened and he immediately cried out as, through the shimmering shadow, he caught sight of a dracanae that had snuck past them all, slithering up behind Merlin and raising her sword, poised to strike against Merlin’s undefended back.

Merlin didn’t notice.

Harry snarled and sent two insidiously burrowing spells into the ground and one flashing and glinting spell in an arch over the entire length of the battle, aimed directly at the dracaena. This particular spell chain was courtesy of the Black Library and one of Harry’s worse moods.

The sword swung down on Merlin’s neck. Harry’s spells detonated. The ground under the dracanae opened up and she dropped into the sudden sinkhole with a shocked shriek. His second spell zoomed straight into the hole and created a man-hole cover. Not a second later, it rattled, dull metal clanking against rough tarmac, with the force of the delayed explosion of Harry’s third spell.

Harry staggered in relief and a ferally grinning empousa lunged for his exposed side. Claws inches away from Harry, she exploded into a shower of golden dust, revealing an armoured figure whose rounders bat was still extended where it had dealt the mortal blow to the monster.

“Thanks.” Harry gasped. _Christ they were all going to owe each other so many life debts by the end of this, no one was going to pay for their own drink for years._

The armoured figure nodded back and whirled round, clanging her celestial tipped bat into three monster’s heads and dissolving them into dust.

Harry flexed his shoulders and grimaced at the heaviness in his arms. Looking around he sighed in relief to see only twenty or so monsters left. Will and Nico could manage those just fine. Will’s strangled whoop and Nico’s frustrated yell confirmed that behind him.

The last monster disintegrated into dust with an almost comical scream and Harry waved his wand tiredly at Will. The lifeless ‘levicorpus’ yanked him off the traffic light by his ankle and dangled him about eight feet off the ground, slowly rotating him. Harry waved his hand again and conjured a mattress under the boy as he cancelled the incantation and dropped him unceremoniously to the floor.

Will yelped and shook his blonde hair out of his eyes with a huff. He was immediately confronted with the small, fuming face of Nico di Angelo. He paled dramatically.

He tried a smile.

Nico’s glare intensified.

He gulped.

Harry left them to it and wandered over to the barrier.

A clatter of armour behind him reminded him of the latest complication but he wanted to check the barrier would hold before dealing with anything else. He poked it and smiled in satisfaction as the wall of blue glowing magic held firm and bent his finger back with the force of his prod. He turned and slumped against it.

Merlin staggered over and collapsed beside him, dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

They both turned to the still masked warrior who was shuffling nervously, trying to inconspicuously hide her beaters bat behind her back.

“How the hell did you get out of the safe house, Silena?” Harry asked.

She gasped.

“You don’t want to be recognised? Don’t take your signature weapon into battle.” Harry explained dryly, raking his adrenaline and exhaustion numbed hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

Silena sheepishly removed her helmet.

“No one else got out I promise. I just wanted to help.” She scuffed a foot against the floor and disturbed the dust that had settled there, causing it to float in the air around their ankles and catch in the light.

“I thought you didn’t want to fight?” Harry questioned.

“I didn’t think anyone would trust me to fight.” She corrected.

“Well, you were a spy.” Merlin pointed out from the floor.

“But I’m not anymore!” She insisted, turning impossibly round and pleading eyes on Harry and Merlin. It was disconcerting how similar to Teddy the look was. Unfortunately for Silena, the comparison hardened Harry’s heart.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t quite work like that.”

He hauled himself to his feet and made to grab her arm and take her back to the safe house.

“Harry, wait!” Merlin called, clambering up. He pitched forward and leaned heavily on his staff, thoroughly exhausted by the amount of magic he’d had to use to make the barrier. “She doesn’t have to fight.”

“You’re damn right she doesn’t have to fight.” Harry retorted.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean she could spy.”

Harry blinked.

“She could fucking what now?”

“Spy. Listen.” He turned to Silena and hobbled closer, the clack of his staff against the pavement muffled by the monster dust covering every inch of the ground. “You have that charm from Kronos?” He asked.

She nodded slowly.

“It doesn’t work though.” She pointed out

“No, but you still have it.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re confident you could sneak around without being heard if I made you invisible so you could find their base?”

“Yes, definitely!”

“Perfect. You actually want to help?”

“Yes! Yes, I do!”

“Harry, connect your extendable ears to the charm, hijack it so we can use it and then Silena doesn’t even have to stay that long she can just plant it and we’ll be able to listen in to all of their plans.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Harry rounded on Silena.

“I’m not letting you do this out of some guilt thing. Charlie will forgive you even if you don’t risk your life trying to help. Please, just stay safe and come back with me to the safe house.”

“Harry, you can’t force people not to fight if they want to. She’s eighteen, she’s old enough to know for herself if she should fight or not.” Merlin paused and looked at Silena for a long moment. “Let her prove it to herself that she deserves everyone’s forgiveness.”

She smiled sadly at him. Harry wasn’t having it.

“She doesn’t need to prove anything!”

“She’s standing right here!” Silena finally yelled, hands on her hips.

“Stop pushing her into this. You’ve done enough damage.” Harry shot at Merlin. Teddy's face wavered in his minds eye.

“That’s enough.” Silena stepped forward, hands still on her hips. “Harry, I’m grateful you care so much about the campers. But look me in the eye and honestly tell me that this wouldn’t help.”

Harry floundered for words. He didn’t even know why he was so violently against this. He supposed it was partly the promise he’d made to Beckendorf so long ago.

He sighed and stopped lying to himself. He knew exactly why he was so against this. It was the fact that sending a teenager right into the heart of the enemy base to further the war effort seemed just a little bit too much like something Dumbledore would have done.

He didn’t know what to do.

At the end of the day, Silena was an adult who could take care of herself. And she wouldn’t even be there for very long, just long enough to dump the charm and leave. He rubbed at his temples. Was he really justifying endangering people to himself now? See, this. This right here is why he never should have had the trust people placed in him to end his own war, and now their faith to help in this war. He couldn’t make the calls. Once, when he was younger, and angrier, and more impulsive, he could have. But now?

Merlin jabbed his staff at Harry’s pocket and an extendable ear flew out. He held his hand out to Silena and she dropped the scythe charm into his palm immediately. He held the ear over the charm and his eyes flared gold. He staggered from the magic and pocketed the now glowing ear.

Silena snapped the bracelet around her wrist and nodded her thanks to Merlin.

“I’ll be careful.” She said.

Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. Silena nodded to Nico and Will as she strode past. Will watched her go with something like respect. Nico kept his eyes trained on Merlin, a little frown creasing his forehead the longer he looked.

Merlin didn’t notice. He hobbled over to where Silena stood, toes pressed against the barrier and tapped her head. From where the tip of his staff touched her hairline, invisibility trickled down her until Harry could not even see the faint haze that disillusionment charms left. He tapped her again and the barrier rang like a gong.

“Good luck.” He whispered.

He felt a hand cup his cheek in response and he smiled.

Silena stepped through the barrier. The ear crackled to life.

Kronos drummed his fingers against the arm of his throne.

Ethan shuffled nervously.

“You’re sure _none_ of them made it through?” Kronos snapped.

“Yes, my lord.” Ethan fought the urge to cower before the Titan-lord and straightened his shoulders. He did not lose one eye to grovel at the feet of a god.

“And it was the River Gods that sunk the ships? You’re certain of it?”

“Yes, my lord. We think Jackson did a trade.”

Kronos lunged off the dais and swiped a clock off the wall, hurling it to the floor with an enraged yell. Its cogs clattered across the ground in a broken heap.

“This _fucking_ kid.” He ranted, pacing up and down. His eyes flashed blue.

“All he does is stop us. Does he have no hobbies?” He lobbed another clock with a crash that dented the wall.

“My lord?” Ethan questioned again, nervously. He wasn’t used to seeing the Titan-lord so agitated.

Kronos whipped round.

“Was the Chase girl with him? Annabeth Chase, blonde hair, blue eyes.”

“Yes, I think so.” Ethan started backing away as Luke pressed closer to him like a feral tiger searching his face as though it would provide an answer his reply hadn’t.

“So, she still opposes me.” His face twisted and one hand clenched.

“She will pay.” Kronos shuddered. “No, no, no, no.” Kronos shook his head and began chuckling. He shuddered again and loped back to the throne. “No, no, Luke… I think not. Trust me. If you felt anything _like_ true remorse, I would know.”

His eyes burned golden and he relaxed, reclining regally back in his throne. He smiled ruefully at Ethan.

“Our good friend Luke grows weary with our unexpected lack of progress.” He steepled his hands together under his chin. “Not to worry, I have something in mind that will sate his frustration.”

Ethan shuddered at the threat laced through Kronos’s voice.

Kronos hummed in thought and cocked his head, considering Ethan.

“Nakamura, lead the next attack.”

Ethan nodded and his heart raced with excitement at the prospect of finally entering into battle himself. The search for Kronos had pulled him away from the frontline for too long. He turned sharply on his heel and made for the door.

“Oh, and Nakamura.” Kronos called to him just as he reached the threshold. Ethan turned. “Escort our Lady Morgana to me, it appears she will soon have a date with the god of thieves.”

Ethan nodded and left.

“I think you’ll like this, Luke.” Kronos whispered to the empty room.

Meanwhile, Silena smiled as the padlock opened with a satisfying click. Swiftly, she removed the bobby pin from the keyhole and gently, very gently, eased the door open and slipped inside. Finally. She was in Kronos’s base.

Harry crashed to the ground with a spray of tarmac, grit and dirt. He rolled over and stared into the grinning face of Percy Jackson.

“Nice of you to finally show up, Houdini.” He greeted and wrenched Harry up by the hand.

Harry whirled around and immediately stepped back. Two swords lunged through exactly where he had been standing a moment before, impaling both monsters who had attacked without seeing the other.

Percy looked at their crossed swords with wide eyes. They both burst into dust with identical wails.

“Now that’s some Shakepearean shit.” He said, sweeping out the foot of the changeling charging at his side. “Et tu, Brute?” He asked the monster scrabbling at his feet.

“Percy, perhaps not the time for a dramatic reading?! How are the bridges holding? We’ve secured the four main crossroads around the Empire State Building, but if they make it that far with a full force it won’t be enough!” Harry yelled, slashing both arms out in a deadly cross that sliced an incoming monster in three. It burst into dust and he pulled a disgusted face as he spat out monster dust from his mouth and trampled over the newly forming flower on the ground.

Percy rammed a monster’s head into his knee and threw it to the ground, wiping his forehead with his free hand and huffing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Williamsburg Bridge is broken, Brooklyn Battery tunnel’s holding-” He whirled and threw three daggers into the horned skull of the stampeding Taroo Ushtey heading straight for Annabeth. “The Stoll’s have the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges, but we lost Queens Midtown tunnel and there’s some weird shit going on in Central Park we need to check out!”

“Weirder than this?” Harry yelled gesturing to the circling Sow above them. It squealed a deafening reet and everybody slammed their hands to their ears.

“Can somebody _do_ something about that freaking pig!” Will yelled from the alcove where he was frantically bandaging an injured demigod and feeding them bites of ambrosia.

“We’re trying!” Merlin, Annabeth, Harry and Percy yelled back.

Nico tarzan yelled and swung from a phone line into the pit of rushing monsters.

Percy heard a strange whistling noise and looked up. A white and brown comet was hurtling right at them.

“Incoming!” He yelled fighting his way out of the projectile’s impact zone.

“Please hit the pig, please hit the pig.” He muttered as he plunged through the monsters, slashing and stabbing and hacking.

The comet zoomed past the sow and grew bigger as it approached. Percy’s eyes widened as he saw a toga flapping in the wind and finally realised what the missile was.

She smashed into the floor, taking out three coblynau in the process.

“Calypso!” He yelled and dove after her. She stirred feebly and blinked up at Harry and Percy who had crowded around her crater.

“Harry? Percy?” She slurred. Harry sent out a concussive blast, knocking the pressing in monsters to the ground and quickly levitated her out of the hole.

“Calypso? What are you doing here? Where’s Typhon? Are you okay?” He asked frantically, looping one of her arms over his shoulders and half carried her half walked her over to a nearby doorway. Percy cleared the way behind them and chucked Annabeth a pilfered shield so she could take over point on the attack. She nodded at him and his eyes tracked her grey hair streak flashing and bobbing through the monsters, clouds of dust following wherever she dove.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. But Harry, you have to know, you must know! Zeus! The god-king! He has fallen! He is dead! I felt his binding within me breaking! We are alone!”

“Yeah, we kind of know.” Harry replied conjuring a pillow for her to sit on in the little alcove. She thanked him and shakily lowered herself down.

“You know? But then, what are you doing?”

Harry looked at her as though she had gone mad.

“Fighting?” He asked with a vague handwave at the carnage behind him and Percy standing guard, sword raised at the door entrance.

“But all is lost!” Calypso wailed.

Harry desperately fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Listen, Calypso. Who’s fighting Typhon now?”

“But-“

“Just a straight answer, Calypso. You’re not a centaur.”

“I- Hecate and Eros are leading the minor gods against Typhon. They have Apollo too, I think, definitely the Muses and the Wind gods. Athena and Ares are leading the council against the gods on the other side.” She stammered through, creasing her brow in concentration. “But what does it matter? They will all lose! If the god-king didn’t have the strength, they certainly won’t.”

“Don’t give up yet. Zeus was alone. They’re fighting as a team-” He froze. “Hang on, did you just say the wind gods?”

“Yes?”

“Hecate led every wind god against Typhon? All of them? You’re sure?” He questioned her frantically.

“Oh, yes, most of them, I think so. Why?” Calypso replied, flustered at Harry’s panic.

“She’s an ambitious fool.” Harry whispered. “If they’re fighting Typhon. Then who’s guarding Olympus?”

Calypso’s face drained of colour.

Harry whipped round to Percy.

“Percy! We need to take out that Sow, now! Anything with wings is the immediate priority! Olympus is undefended from the air!”

Percy turned back terrified eyes to Harry and pointed at the street.

“Harry, I think we might have a more immediate problem.”

Harry followed Percy’s pointing hand and his eyes fell upon the tunnel entrance where a banner of Kronos waved, held proudly by Ethan Nakamura. Flanked, not by monsters, but a battalion of demigods.

Harry’s stomach dropped to his feet.

Hurriedly, he cast every protection spell he knew at the alcove to keep Calypso safe and rose to stand by Percy.

He scanned the battlefield and scrabbled together a strategy as best he could.

“Percy, take the Sow. Merlin and I will take the demigods. Get Nico and Annabeth and Jake’s team on the remaining monsters and get them to draw them back, separate them from this new group as much as possible.”

“Harry-“

“Percy, please. Merlin and I can take out the new demigods without killing them. You can’t.”

Percy winced at Harry’s bluntness but nonetheless acquiesced.

Harry looked down and considered his wands for a moment. His spell mottled palm glinted back at him tauntingly. He snapped his hand and the Elder Wand slid into his palm with a satisfying schink.

High up above in the air, Harry heard Percy yell.

“Blackjack I’m gonna give you so many donuts after this you’re gonna be crapping in rings for a year.”

Well that was one way to motivate people, Harry supposed.

He rolled his shoulders and stepped off the doorstep.

Nakamura met his eye across the battlefield and smiled. Harry kept walking. The demigods to Ethan’s side began calling insults at Harry, but he couldn’t hear them. His ears began to ring and every sound muffled as his soul splintered in tiny fissures along the surface at the sight of teenagers, some of them practically children, frothing at the mouth for battle and blood. A monster lunged at him. His wand flashed. Harry kept walking. He was ten metres away now, directly in front of Ethan.

Annabeth yelled to his right and Harry felt the floor shake as Nico created an enormous chasm between the new reinforcements and the old monsters in the Lincoln Tunnel. The demigods began to cackle at the sight of Harry standing alone against them.

A flash of gold and Merlin materialised at his shoulder.

He looked exhausted and dishevelled, but he regarded the battalion with a calm gaze, his staff held loosely in one hand, pointing at the ground.

He cracked a small smile at Harry.

“Couldn’t let you face it alone.”

Harry swallowed and turned back to the line of teenage warriors facing him. Ethan hefted his sword up in a ready stance and braced his feet against the ground ready for a sprint. His gaze met Harry’s through the eye slit in his helmet.

Harry took in a deep breath.

“Charge!” Ethan yelled. The demigods surged forward.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry countered.

Left and right and up and down, Harry disarmed and petrified the demigods, his wand thrumming in his hand, eager to be used. Every time he was forced to stun a demigod his other hand swept under to cushion the fall and soon Harry was surrounded by the slumped bodies of dozens of teenagers. For ten minutes that stretched into a century demigod after demigod fell under his wand and each time he saw their eyes roll back in their heads his heart ached. More and more came. More and more fell. Until Harry stood in the centre of a foul spiral of unconscious children.

Merlin stood tall on the other side of the battlefield. The only other upright figure on their marooned section of the tunnel. He lowered his staff and turned to face Harry.

His face slackened and he yelled out a warning.

Harry turned, expecting some monster. Instead, across the chasm, Percy lay crumpled on the floor, rope wrapped around his arm, surrounded by mounds and mounds of monster dust. The sow’s cracked trotter was lodged in the ground as spoils and Ethan Nakamura stood over him, stolen dagger pointing straight at Percy’s heart.

But Merlin wasn’t looking at Ethan. His hand was pointing at the withered old woman hiding in the shadows behind, blue yarn tangled in her fingers.

The shadows played and writhed across her face as her skin buckled and twisted. Her veins slithering painfully under her skin flared sick fluorescent colours, distorting her image into one barely human. A vein in her cheek snapped and its colour leaked out, staining half of her face blood red.

Tears tracked down her sagging skin, soaking into the tangled yarn still twisted in her shaking fingers where her hand clutched her cheek in agony.

Achingly slowly, she withdrew a delicate pair of golden stalk scissors. The tiny gilt handle glinted in the cold February sun as snow swirled around and settled in her grey and faded hair like ash.

Harry’s heart seized and every joint locked into place so tightly even his shivers could not escape.

The fate bowed her head. Harry raised his wand. And hesitated.

Thoughts and emotions crashed through him like a tsunami, overlapping and rushing after each other too fast to follow. This was all his fault. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Ethan so had only disarmed the boy and, in his grief at his task, not checked that the following stunner had hits its mark. And now, due to Harry’s cowardice, Percy was going to pay the price.

She would snip his life away and, in doing so, lock the deed into the fabric of the world. There would be no coming back, no last minute escapes. If, by some miracle, Percy survived; the severed thread would end his life more surely than any sword.

He knew this, knew his guilt viscerally. Deep within his heart the knowledge sat twisting its knife. Yet still he hesitated, failing his friend again, by staring too long into the tortured eyes of the fate and seeing her pain.

He ought to kill her. He was not fool enough to think that a paltry ‘expelliarmus’ or ‘stupefy’ would work against such a goddess. He ought to and in doing so, halt Ethan’s sword. Give Percy a chance. It was the obvious choice, the only choice that could be made.

But he hesitated. He hesitated, like a fool, because she cried. And her skin writhed out of her control. And her veins bled and burst in her body. And Harry had just had to attack and stun far far to many children and he couldn’t help but wonder if, maybe, the fates weren’t also victims of this fickle universe. He'd already caused so much damage today, and her only crime was carrying out her duty - Harry couldn’t kill her.

Her scissors slid closed. Ethan plunged his sword.

Merlin saw it all. Saw Harry raise his wand, look into the eyes of fate’s vessel, and hesitate.

He made the call for him. Merlin slammed his staff down and a wave of raw unfocused power, similar only to the lightning burst he had spewed at the stone-henge, blasted from his fingertips straight into the fate.

She screamed – one long piercing note that sounded both like the greatest pain, and the sweetest relief, and burst into mist and magic, searing her way through every plane, and stamping her life path onto the wood and glass behind her, leaving a protean pattern that teased images and faces in the ash.

Merlin lowered his hand. Harry gasped for breath and collapsed to his knees.

At the same time, Annabeth and Calypso both flung wickedly sharp daggers at Ethan’s unprotected back and Percy swung his leg out, catching Ethan’s ankle and knocking him to the floor. Ethan’s head cracked against the pavement and he was knocked out cold. Percy dropped his head back to the floor with a tired grunt as a full body shiver passed through him, like someone had just walked over his grave. He cracked one eye open and looked blearily up into Annabeth's worried face.

"Kiss of life?" He asked.

Her second dagger embedded itself so close to Percy's head it cut a line in his dark hair.

Harry crumpled and only just caught himself with one hand on the tarmac.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He gasped, drinking in the sight of Percy’s rising and falling chest, Annabeth’s sheet white face and satisfied look at Ethan’s hand pinned to the ground by her dagger, and Merlin’s grim understanding.

For Merlin looked at Harry and saw a mirror, a mirror to a thousand choices made by a younger man. And though he grieved for the loss of the fate, and greatly feared the consequences of his actions, he would do it again in an instant, knowing that he had taken this burden from his friend. But gods did it hurt.

“Thank you.” Harry whispered.


	16. A Life for a Life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: suicidal thoughts.
> 
> Stay safe everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> I am so so sorry for the long wait and thank you so much to everyone still reading - the comments from last chapter really drove me to get this done even though it took so many drafts of this single chapter its frankly ridiculous. But we're here now! I'm buzzing guys, buzzing.
> 
> Hopefully the update rate from here will be faster more like every fortnight from now on, but thank you so much for your patience.
> 
> I hope everyone's doing well this summer and happy reading!

Across the battlefield, stranded on the other side of the chasm Nico had wrought across the entire tunnel, Percy watched from the floor as Merlin stumbled. He seemed almost confused as he brought his hand to his head and closed his eyes tight against the evening light that was bathing the entire battlefield in a fiery glow. With the swirling ash and monster dust in the sky it looked as though a dragon had torched the scene and Merlin was the only one left standing in the rolling smoke.

Merlin blinked and shook himself as his eyes left the shivering form of Harry kneeling on the ground and found the scorch mark left behind by the fate. He stared at it and with every passing second he seemed to get sharper, more angular, more brittle. His hands began to shake in the tight fists he had curled them into by his sides and he slowly, very slowly closed his eyes against the proof that he had killed one of the Fates.

Behind him, Calypso made a small indignant noise at the action.

“How?” Annabeth breathed, still frozen in shock.

Percy choked, slightly delirious. “He saved my life.”

“ _How?_ ”

“He saved my life _and_ killed a Fate.” Percy’s voice was becoming slightly hysterical and he was mildly uncomfortable with how high-pitched it had become.

“There will be consequences for this.” Calypso warned, her eyes narrowing to slits at the scorch mark.

“You _think_?!” Annabeth asked. Oh good, it wasn’t just Percy that was having trouble processing everything. He knew he could trust Annabeth. Calypso was being entirely too calm about this.

“Now is not the time for hysterics!” Calypso yelled, turning on Annabeth in a swirl of hair and toga. “This idiot! This _foolish_ Emrys has just singlehandedly unbalanced the entire Pantheon! We are doomed! Without Zeus we have no hope of maintaining order. We may as well just surrender to the Titans now!”

So…not taking it as well as he’d thought.

“What do you mean unbalanced?” Annabeth demanded.

“Ignorant mortal.” Calypso scoffed.

Percy winced and started to raise himself painfully off the floor as Annabeth bristled.

“Why don’t you explain then as you’re so knowledgeable.” Annabeth asked sweetly.

Percy shivered at the tone. Annabeth faking being nice was never a good thing.

Calypso crossed her arms and raised a single haughty eyebrow. Her expression dripped condescension and if Percy hadn’t been looking so closely, he’d have missed the slight tremor in her shoulders, the way her eyes kept darting over to the scorch mark as though to keep reminding herself that that had actually happened. The twitching in her jaw as she grit her teeth together.

Calypso was afraid, and she was trying to cover it.

“There are three Fates. This, at the very least, you must know.” She finally started with an imperious wave of a trembling hand.

Annabeth turned away to stop herself from snapping out a retort to Calypso’s jab.

“Yep. Saw them once. Creepy old ladies.” Percy answered since it didn’t seem like Annabeth was going to turn back around anytime soon.

Calypso ignored him. Percy didn’t think that was very fair. He’d almost just _died_ , surely that gained him some sympathy.

“They each have a job.” Calypso continued. “Clotho, the spinner, essentially creates life. Lachesis measures the thread of allotted life. Atropos cuts the thread when the time comes. For life to happen and the world to stay in balance all three must play their parts.”

Percy thought back to the tiny glimpse of her that he’d seen before the glinting of a dagger hanging above him had narrowed his world view to a serrated edge.

Which Fate had she been? He fought the wave of panic as he thought back and remembered how the mere sight of her stooped and aged figure, clutching thread snarled into her hands had slammed him back to his twelve-year-old self. He’d remembered in that split second glance the last time he’d seen her. He’d been scared, in a new world he didn’t really understand and trying to save his mother’s life.

He’d seen her cut a blue thread at the roadside then, but she’d been confident. Aloof. Dispassionate in the act. But this time it had almost seemed to physically pain her to snip the thread with her tiny delicate scissors as one hand clutched her jaw in apparent pain and tears leaked from the corner of her ageless eyes -

“Why was she crying?” Percy blurted out.

“At a guess, because Zeus had fallen.” Calypso shrugged, a small jerky thing, brittle with tension. “He was such an anchor to the Pantheon that his loss would affect basically every fate, whether small or large. He might as well have smashed the loom as he fell.”

Percy frowned at Calypso’s answer and waited for Annabeth’s inevitable follow up question to the kind of cryptic explanation. When it never came, he looked up in bewilderment to see her still frozen in place and staring out across the chasm with a hand covering her mouth.

He followed her sight line and sucked in a startled breath.

Merlin stood across the chasm, shaking and staring at the sky with tears rolling down his cheeks. Sheer defeat and helpless fury screaming from every line of his body. His head tipped back and his hands, that normally waved and gestured with the vibrancy of his words, hung limply at his sides.

The weight of centuries seemed to press down on him like a shroud and Percy had to rip his gaze away at the intimacy and vulnerability of it all. He got the feeling that if anyone attacked Merlin in this moment, he wouldn’t lift a finger to save himself. The realisation sent an icy chill down his spine.

Was this what Harry had meant by a worn-down soul? Was this what Nico had seen, finally showing through on the surface?

His eyes met Annabeth’s and they shared a look of total and utter horror at this glimpse into the anguish of eons, a pain that he didn’t even think the language of mortals could describe.

Percy couldn’t help himself, he looked back.

Harry had noticed Merlin too. He staggered to his feet and approached his friend cautiously, a dark stumbling shadow against the drifting orange of the dust and sky.

Gently, so gently, Harry cradled the back of Merlin’s head against his shoulder. Merlin held himself taut as a bowstring for a few long moments before he simply collapsed into Harry’s hold. His shoulders began to heave and his hands clutched the back of Harry’s cloak as though scrabbling for purchase.

Percy’s heart twisted at the sight. Annabeth made a small sound like a strangled cat.

The breeze around Merlin and Harry began to pick up as Merlin’s magic began to rage out of his control. The dust and ash began to swirl in a choking whirlwind until Percy could no longer make out their silhouettes. They had become a dark smudge flickering through the tattered and swirling veil of the fiery cloud across the canyon.

For a second a golden shadow glimmered, standing between Merlin and the scorch mark of the Fate as though blocking it from his view and protecting him from the reminder.

But then Percy blinked and it was gone. A trick of his imagination.

Annabeth sniffled a little and discretely wiped her eyes. She turned her back resolutely on the swirling storm and faced Calypso with as strong a gaze as she could muster.

“Why did Zeus matter so much to the Fates? There’s influence, and then there’s smashing the loom.” She asked and Percy was impressed to see that her voice only cracked once.

A lump was still lodged in his throat and he knew any attempt at speaking would only come out a garbled mess.

It was fine. Merlin would be fine. Harry would help him and he’d come bounding over with this ridiculous grin on his face and they’d get back into the fight guns blazing.

He told himself if he repeated it enough it might come true.

“Theirs was a complicated relationship.” Calypso answered with a final confused glance across the chasm. Was that _fear_? Of _Merlin_? The flicker of emotion was gone before Percy could work it out and she was facing Annabeth with a blank stare. “Zeus answered to no one but the Fates, and in turn the god-king was the only one that the Fates would even consider bending their allotted course for. It was a delicate balance of power.”

“Does that mean Zeus could have taken Atropos’s place?” Annabeth pressed.

_‘Taken her place?’ What? Why would someone do that?_ Percy thought in confusion as he scrambled to keep up with Annabeth’s brain that was already leaping far ahead of him.

“No one. _No one_ should attempt to assume power over Life and Death when they were not made for it.” Calypso’s calm façade cracked slightly with the vehemence of her tone.

“Okay….” He said slowly. “So, no one will be volunteering for that job. Noted.”

This only seemed to aggravate Calypso more.

“I do not say this lightly. If Apollo or some other minor interferer of Fate could fill the role, I would not be so concerned. But as it is, if a being was not specifically made to bear the strain of the balance of Life and Death, within the span of a mortal life, the power would drive them mad beyond all reason.”

“But _someone’s_ got to take her place! Just as someone will have to take the place of the Ruler of Olympus. Everyone knows that! The Pantheon wouldn’t be able to function without an anchor and Balance.” Annabeth insisted, growing increasingly agitated as she carded her hand through her tangled ponytail in panic. Her hand hit a snarl and she ripped her fingers through it with a vicious tug.

Percy’s heart clenched as he noticed her fingers shaking.

He brought himself to standing and hobbled over to her, hissing slightly through clenched teeth as he jostled his injuries. She turned to him with blood shot and too wide eyes which narrowed immediately as she catalogued every injury on him and rapidly worked out that he probably shouldn’t be moving.

“Sit down.” She ordered furiously.

Percy felt himself trample on Ethan’s fingers by accident. He looked down, shrugged, and carried on.

“No.” He answered cheerfully.

“Sit down, seaweed brain. You’re going to hurt yourself and we still have a war to win and then all this Fate stuff and just _what are you doing_.”

Her last words were muffled by Percy’s battered and beaten breastplate as he engulfed her in a rib-crushing hug.

“Hugging you.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because you’re shaking.”

“No, I’m not.”

“What’s that sound then?”

The sound of her chest plate rattling against his with the force of her trembling in the muffled silence of the still battlefield paused Annabeth in her weak attempts to wriggle out of Percy’s hold.

“That’s, that’s-“

Percy clutched her tighter, as much for his own benefit as hers.

Finally her breaths, which had been coming in harsh pants, evened out and Annabeth’s hands curled into the leather straps of his armour began to feel a lot less like she was pushing Percy away and a lot more like she was holding on.

“What is it?” Percy finally asked. He knew something had rattled her. Some thought or consideration that her insanely clever brain had produced unhelpfully that had finally tipped her over the edge.

“Just- what if it’s _you_?” Annabeth whispered.

That brought him up short. He’d thought- He wasn’t sure what he’d thought. Maybe that Annabeth’s shaking had been residual panic from the battle, or him almost dying, or the titans, or this latest clusterfuck or even lingering panic from the nightmares in the safe house, not…that.

“What do you mean?” He finally asked.

Annabeth heaved in a shuddering breath as though steeling herself to verbalise the thought, like saying it out loud might make it more likely to come true.

“What if they make you do it?” She whispered into his shoulder.

A slight scuffle behind told them that Calypso had stumbled at the words. Percy ignored her and focused on Annabeth.

“Why would it be me?”

“It’s you. It’s always you. Whenever something like this happens the gods, Chiron, the other campers, even you! You always think you have to fix it, and you do! You do fix it, but this time what if you can’t? What if they make you be a Fate? What if that’s the choice the Great Prophecy is about? You heard what Calypso said: “A mortal life-span” is how long it takes before you go mad. I won’t have you doing this all your life only to pass on the job like a deadly baton just before you die. I won’t, I won’t.” She hiccupped and Percy realised that the slight dampness he could feel spreading on his shoulder was Annabeth’s tears. “Oh my gods, I just don’t want it to be you.”

Percy was speechless. For a second, Annabeth’s fear engulfed him. Spreading like an insidious barbed wire through his veins that twisted around his heart and squeezed it to a stuttering stumble.

He realised he was staring to hyperventilate and forced himself to take deep breaths. This wasn’t the choice; Harry had basically destroyed all the Prophecies anyway. He hadn’t even thought about the Great Prophecy in ages. Particularly not since Zeus fell- Something clicked in his brain as a memory surfaced on the back of the rambling thought.

He breathed out.

“It won’t be me.”

“You can’t promise me that.” Annabeth hissed, her fear making her furious.

“When Zeus fell-“

“What does that -”

“Just listen to me.” Annabeth drew back and Percy was struck by how vulnerable she looked. He’d always admired her strength, and to see her now so close to breaking, fingers still curled into his breastplate with a white knuckled grip like it was the only thing grounding her to the floor. It shook him like an advancing army never could have.

“Annabeth, listen.” He said with renewed fervour. “When Zeus fell, we all felt the imbalance. Do you remember how our souls felt untethered? How it then turned into this strange tension, like we were all waiting for something? I can still feel it if I focus on it. Remember how we all knew, without being told, that the Ruler of Olympus had fallen?”

Annabeth nodded, though her eyes still seemed too wide in her face. The grey that had always reminded Percy of a storm now looked like fragile glass, close to shattering.

“Well what do you feel now?” He asked, his hands circling her wrists and loosening her death grip on the straps.

“I – I don’t know.” She finally answered, her face a mask of bewilderment.

“Surely we should have felt something similar.” Percy pressed. He glanced at Calypso. “If what Calypso says is true about how important the Fates are, surely we should have felt the imbalance, like before? At least a greater sense of freedom? _Something_?”

Annabeth’s face became clearer, her gaze sharper. Finally, she focused on Percy with eyes of gun metal grey.

“You think someone has already taken Atropos’s place.” She stated. No question in her blank tone.

Calypso stiffened beside them.

Percy hesitated before he nodded firmly. He knew he was right. Like he saw the monsters in the mist, like he felt the sea roaring in his veins every minute of the day, like he’d felt off-kilter and adrift when Zeus had fallen, he knew this in his gut. Fate had already selected its new vessel.

“She seemed almost happy when she died.” Annabeth trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip. She sucked in a sharp breath. “My gods, do you think she _knew_?”

Oh wow, Percy hadn’t even thought of that.

The horrifying thought twisted and burrowed into the back of his mind.

His eyes drifted back across the chasm. The windstorm Merlin had started earlier was frozen in place. Each individual dust mote shimmered in the slanting sunlight through the tunnel suspended in time.

Harry stooped and wrapped something – Merlin’s blue scarf - around Merlin’s neck with gentle hands.

Percy didn’t understand what was going on, but by the way Merlin had frozen time around them, seemingly be accident, the action meant something.

Harry smiled hesitantly at the warlock and it looked a lot like forgiveness.

Percy watched his friends and wasn’t sure he wanted to know if Atropos had Seen her fate.

“Come on.” Percy muttered, taking Annabeth’s hand and stumbling over the pockmarked tarmac.

“Percy?” Calypso called after them.

“We should meet with Harry and Merlin!” Percy called back over his shoulder, wincing as the movement pulled at his bruised ribs.

Annabeth caught the wince and with an irritated tut she yanked his arm around her shoulders, so that she carried most of his weight.

“My saviour.” He murmured quietly, no energy for a more sarcastic quip. She rolled her eyes but the corner of her lips twitched.

Ahead of them, Merlin and Harry had finally begun to make their way over. Their steps halted at the chasm and they had a quick muffled conversation. Percy watched as Merlin said something and Harry tensed.

Merlin reached one hand out in concern, but Harry quickly brushed him off with a smile that Percy could see from halfway across the tunnel was forced.

Merlin stepped closer but Harry had already begun waving his hand and muttering an incantation. With a sigh, Merlin turned back and with a flash of burnished gold eyes did the same.

Percy had been expecting them to teleport or something, so when the first scraping of tarmac against tarmac rumbled deep in the rift he stumbled back as the earth bent and a bridge began to form.

Behind him, Calypso scoffed at the blatant display of magic.

“Emrys just doesn’t know when to stop.” She sneered.

Percy jerked to a stop, wavering slightly on one foot. She may be scared but Percy wasn’t going to let her take it out on his friends. Not after what he’d seen earlier.

“Calypso, don’t.” He said shortly.

“You don’t tell me what to do, Perseus Jackson.” She made to shove past him.

Percy yanked her back and used the sound cover of the still forming bridge to hiss furiously at her.

“You don’t know half of what that guy has been through, okay? He’s just saved my life and he doesn’t need you adding to this mess, alright?”

“You would defend him? He almost just destroyed everything with one action!”

Percy glanced furtively over his shoulder. Merlin and Harry were halfway across the bridge at this point and from the tightness around Merlin’s eyes and the way he wasn’t looking at the three of them, he seemed to suspect what they were saying.

Annabeth noticed it too.

“Calypso, maybe you should stay quiet until we can explain more later.” She said firmly.

Had Percy mentioned recently that he loved Annabeth?

“Of course _you’d_ back him up.” Calypso dismissed.

Annabeth’s jaw twitched. Percy had had enough.

“Calypso. Shut up. Merlin’s literally lived eons waiting for King Arthur to come back because of a stupid destiny his own pantheon gave him, and from what Harry said, he’s hated pretty much every second of it. _Then_ he finds out he has the power to destroy someone else’s Fate but he’s still bound to his own! You’re not the only one who’s been cursed for centuries, so have a little compassion!” Percy whispered furiously unable to totally control his volume with the force of his rant.

Outwardly he was fuming, inwardly he was disappointed.

This wasn’t the girl he remembered from Ogygia.

Calypso looked like he’d slapped her. Annabeth had a small satisfied smile playing around her lips.

Percy turned just as Merlin and Harry stepped off the bridge.

“You alright?” He asked quickly, eyes roving over them for injuries and his heart hammering in his chest as he prayed that Merlin hadn’t heard everything he’d said.

Merlin inclined his head and shot him an exhausted smile, though winced as he did so, like the movement had caused him pain.

“Are you hurt? Where? We can call Will over-” Percy rambled. He’d never been this shaken after a battle, but then, he’d also never been in a battle with this high stakes before

Merlin’s hand came up and rubbed his torso absent mindedly, right over his heart.

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse.” He flashed a weak smile at Annabeth and Percy. “It will pass.”

That was literally the least reassuring thing Percy had ever heard but ok.

He shot a last lingering look at Merlin and carefully noted the drying tear tracks on his cheeks and the rigid way he held himself, his hands twisting into the material of his scarf as he glanced down surreptitiously at it every now and then each with a tiny blink of wonder.

Not willing to push him when he was clearly hanging on by a thread Percy turned to Harry.

“What about you? Are you okay? I don’t see any injuries but then I wouldn’t really know about curses… ”

Harry wouldn’t meet his eyes and Percy started to get really worried.

“Harry? What’s wrong? Is everything-“

“Percy, I’m sorry.” Harry blurted out, the words running into each other in a frantic jumble.

“What?” Percy asked dumbly.

Harry clenched his fists by his sides.

“I nearly killed you-“

“ _Ethan_ nearly killed me with the help of a Fate. _They_ nearly cast the blow. That’s not on you.”

“I could have stopped it. I hesitated-“

“So? You couldn’t bring yourself to kill an old woman. Yeah, you’re such a monster.”

Annabeth surreptitiously trod on Percy’s foot as Harry blanched at the harsh tone.

Fuck, Percy could be doing a better job at this.

“Mercy is nothing to be ashamed of.” Calypso, surprisingly, piped up.

Harry wasn’t having it.

“I should have done something. If Merlin hadn’t-”

“Anyone would have hesitated.”

“NO THEY CLEARLY WOULDN’T!” Harry finally roared, infuriated by the fact they wouldn’t even let him finish his sentence. Percy could see the thoughts playing out across Harry’s face, clear as day. The ‘Didn’t they see?’, the ‘Didn’t they get it?’ clear in his clenched jaw.

The obvious self-loathing shone from his eyes and flashed through his glasses and broadcasted the firm belief Harry held that if Percy had died, it would have been Harry’s fault.

Percy hated the people that had done this to Harry. The people who had somehow convinced Harry that every life was his responsibility to save and protect.

He swore in that moment if he ever found them he’d give them a long and lengthy introduction to Riptide, because Harry shouldn’t look this defeated. Harry shouldn’t look this guilty when all he’d done was have too much compassion to kill someone.

Again, the thought flickered. Had Atropos _known_?

He brushed it aside, he had more important things to deal with right now.

Annabeth took a deep breath and started in a slow even tone that rung with finality.

“Merlin is immortal and has lived for far, far longer than you. He sees things differently. His actions aren’t a reflection on yours. You may be immortal too but you’re still only twenty-two. Stop judging yourself by him.”

Harry stared at them all as though he had never seen them before. No one dared to speak and the tension stretched like a coiled snake between them as it seemed increasingly likely that Harry was going to lash out as before but then, with a single sigh, his whole body slumped and sagged in relief.

But Percy wasn’t as relieved as he should be. Shame burbled in his gut and spread through him with an uncomfortable sticky warmth that prickled his insides as Annabeth spoke. Her argument was logical, reasonable, it was what Harry needed to hear.

But it wasn’t exactly truthful.

Percy fidgeted as Merlin’s gaze lingered on him.

Percy’s fatal flaw had always been loyalty. The thing was, there is a certain ruthlessness in total loyalty. It meant always putting some people before others. And if given the same choice that Harry had been given, Percy knew he wouldn’t have hesitated.

He knew it, and by the looks of things, Merlin knew it too.

Did he judge him for it? How did he even _know_?

Most people just heard ‘loyalty’ and assumed that simply meant that betraying him would be easy because he was too trusting. It didn’t occur to them that through his loyalty Percy could equally hurt others.

But then, Merlin’s face, defeated and broken as he looked to the skies and raged against the unfairness of his fate came back to him and he knew how Merlin had recognised it in him.

He’d seen it because it was probably Merlin’s fatal flaw too.

After all it takes a hell of a lot of loyalty to wait an eternity for one man.

With that thought, Percy met Merlin’s gaze unflinchingly. To his surprise, Merlin gave a minute tilt of the head, more of a bow than a nod, and turned away.

That was it? No little glare or shake of the head that unmistakably said ‘be careful’ or ‘watch yourself’? Not even a commiserating ‘this will ruin everything so we both need to be careful and not to let our fatal flaws control us’ meaningful stare? (Percy had a very expressive stare, okay) Just a little nod of acceptance and understanding, and the moment was gone?

Warmth started to bloom in his chest as Percy realised what that nod had meant.

Merlin was proud of his loyalty and saw it as a strength, not a weakness.

Maybe Percy could too.

The little burgeoning hope, the little extra confidence and trust in himself this thought provided, chased away the shame that had been curdling within him.

He straightened a little taller. Then winced as that action pulled at his injuries. He settled for a little chin raise. No that felt snooty.

Oh, fuck this. Self-love was hard.

Merlin’s voice, his welsh accent coming through thicker with his exhaustion broke Percy out of his weird introspective moment.

“Harry, we need to get the kids to a safe house. They’ll wake up soon and we don’t need another assault that we can only counter with magic so soon.”

Right. Battle. War. Olympus.

Harry himself still seemed slightly dazed that he’d been so thoroughly forgiven, but he nevertheless turned immediately and started sending off patronuses to Ron and Hermione to call them to help.

A movement behind him caught his attention and he turned round to see Calypso, her arms so tightly crossed Percy didn’t think she’d ever be able to untangle them and her mouth pressed into a hard line, staring at Merlin.

Actually, the term staring was a little generous, more like attempting to bore holes into the side of Merlin’s head solely through the intensity of her gaze.

It seemed her fear had given way to anger.

She was just starting to snap when a fuzzy crackling from Merlin’s pocket cut her off.

“Oh.” Said Merlin, staring at his pocket and making no move to fish out whatever it was.

Harry jostled his arm a bit.

“Oh right.” Merlin hastily fished around in his pocket until he pulled out what looked to be a single ear.

“Why…do you have a glowing ear in your pocket?” Annabeth asked with the air of one who was really hoping for a good explanation but wasn’t holding their hopes out for one.

“It’s Silena!” Merlin said, a soft smile stealing across his features. “Told you she’d be fine.” He murmured gently to Harry who looked extremely relieved for some reason.

Merlin’s eyes flashed burnished gold and the ear made a sputtering fizzing noise before crackling to life.

“Harry? Merlin?” Silena’s hushed voice echoed out of it.

“It’s a radio?!” Annabeth questioned.

“Yes, I’ll explain later.” Merlin placated her.

“Silena! Are you okay? How are you? Where are you? Are you safe?” Harry fired off, barely pausing between each question.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Silena rushed out, her voice oddly distorted like it was coming out of one of those old gramophones. “Listen guys I don’t have long. I can’t drop the charm anywhere because they’ll notice it, there’s these two guards on Kronos’s door that can sense deception.”

“Dolos and Apate probably.” Merlin said in an undertone.

“Anyway, that doesn’t matter. The point is, I heard them and you’ve got a problem. They know about Atropos – also you guys blew up a Fate?!” Silena’s voice came out in a squeaky whisper.

Merlin flinched and Calypso ground her teeth together.

“Later.” Percy cut in hastily. “Silena, what’s heading our way?”

“Right, right. Sorry. Kronos has Hermes. He’s some sort of prisoner but I can’t work out what for. What I do know is that Kronos is going to use how weak and unbalanced the Pantheon is right now to sneak into Olympus by air. Apparently most of the wind gods are away fighting Typhon and you guys are doing better than they expected holding out the bridges.”

Harry’s skin bleached white as Silena spoke and his green eyes, amplified by his glasses, stood out oversized and livid in his face.

“Teddy’s on Olympus.” He whispered. Merlin’s head jerked to look at him so fast Percy was half surprised he didn’t get whiplash.

“There’s more.” Silena’s voice crackled over hushed and urgent. “Morgana’s entering the battle somewhere in the financial district I think and Hyperion and a battalion of Laistrygonians are headed for Central Park. They’re hoping to distract you so you won’t make it to Olympus until it’s-“ Her voice cracked. “Until it’s too late.” She finished, swallowing the last word so it came out slightly strangled.

“Silena, listen to me. You’ve been incredible. Amazing. Is there anything else?” Merlin said calm and clear in the face of the mounting odds that stacked against them from Silena’s hushed and fearful words.

Silena’s breath hitched over the comms.

“Last thing. They’re going to launch a dual attack after they take Central Park. Queens Midtown tunnel is the main target but they’re also sending a drakon to camp so we can’t call in back up.”

Annabeth gasped.

“We don’t have the numbers.” She breathed out. “We can’t fight all those marks at once while holding the other tunnels.”

Merlin breathed in and out deeply.

“Thank you, Silena. You’ve given us the warning we need to do this. Now _get out of there_. We don’t want you in danger and once they know that we know what their plans are it’ll become obvious there’s a spy. It won’t be safe. You need to get out as quickly as possible.”

There was a rustling as though Silena was about to turn the Ear off when suddenly the sound paused and there was a hitch of breath.

“Is Charlie okay, can you tell me _please_ , is he alright?” Silena whispered out.

Merlin looked helplessly to Annabeth, the only one who would feasibly know. But she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

“We- we don’t know for sure, but Camp hasn’t been hit yet. He’s there making weaponry and he’s got the others with him. You know what Clarisse and Luna are like. They’ll be fine, worry about getting yourself out first.”

“Thank you.” Another pause. “Stay safe, all of you.” The ear cut out.

Harry and Merlin looked at each other over the Ear held loosely in Merlin’s hand.

“I’ll take Olympus.” “I’ll take Morgana.” They both said at the same time.

Harry turned to Percy, Annabeth and Calypso, his back rigid with stress and his hand spasming at his side to reach for his wand.

“Percy and Annabeth take Central Park. Once you’ve secured it, head to Queens Midtown. Calypso go straight to Queens Midtown and warn them there. See if you can grab a couple of Huntresses. I’ll send a patronus to Camp to warn them, in the meantime, Merlin and I will take Morgana and Kronos.”

“You can’t just _take on_ Kronos.” Calypso hissed furiously at Harry.

“Teddy’s on Olympus.” Harry said simply. “I don’t have a choice.”

There were no grand speeches. No rallying of hope with charisma filled words that bolstered Percy’s spirit and gave him the strength to continue the fight.

Instead, they all drank in the sight of each other for a moment. Bruised, battered, nearly broken, but still alive and with orders to act on. It was all the hope that Percy needed to keep going.

Merlin bowed his head to them all.

“Get him back.” He said to Harry. “Be safe.” He said to the rest of them, and then he was off racing down the streets and vaulting over cars, his long shadow flickering in the sunset against the buildings as he sprinted towards Morgana.

They all looked once more at each other and steeled themselves. They had places to be.

Harry disappeared with a loud crack. Calypso thrust her arm into the air and harnessed a wind to whisk her away over the roof tops. Annabeth and Percy started running.

Merlin’s feet pounded against the pot-holed pavement in time with the staccato thumping of his heart as he weaved and ducked through the frozen streets of New York.

His foot hit a slip of ice and he skidded forward, his arms spiralling out of control. He staggered forward, almost bent double with the forward propulsion and just about managed to not crash headfirst into the tarmac.

A monster lunged out at him from the side. His hand was out and his eyes were flashing before he’d even properly registered the threat.

The monster screamed and burst into dust behind him. Merlin ran on, clenching his hands to stop their shaking.

Morgana. Morgana. Don’t think about anything else. Don’t think about Fate, Destiny, the Old Dragon’s false promises and always the cruellest lie that Arthur was coming back. He stumbled. _No_ , don’t think about it. Not the Greek Fates, or _his_ Fate or anything. The Old Religion can go fuck itself. He pushed his limbs faster and faster, feet smacking against the tarmac.

All that mattered was stopping Morgana. Not because the Old Religion had told him to, but because she was threatening his friends.

He hurtled round a corner and almost crashed into a car as a wave of Old Religion magic slammed over him and broke over his head like a cresting wave.

Once, it would have felt comforting. Magic is magic after all, no matter what nefarious deed Morgana was putting it to. But now it just felt like he was drowning. Drowning in the lies and promises of magic and the smothering centuries that Destiny had wrapped him in like a strait jacket.

He’d been breaking since the nightmares in the ‘safe house’ but the act of killing a Fate had almost shattered him.

It had just taken his breath away, for a moment, how unfair it all was.

He swayed on his feet. Morgana. Morgana. He repeated it as a mantra in his head. A reminder why he couldn’t simply lose himself and let everything go.

Morgana. And by the feel and the strength of her magic that lapped against him, she was close.

He raced up another street and almost choked on the amount of power running through the streets. Reality hung in tassels around his head and he could barely see for the knotting and tangles of planes twisted into a web that turned the fabric of the world into a ripped and tattered patchwork.

What was Morgana _doing_?! This wasn’t a spell- he didn’t know what this was.

A hacking insane laugh cackled from the roof top above him.

He looked up and saw Morgana standing poised at the roof top, dress swirling around her in the whipping winds and arms uplifted to the sky. Her very being seemed to glow with an unearthly crackling light that shot up into the sky and created a perverted mutation of the Northern Lights across Manhattan, using Morgana as the conduit.

He eyed the height of the building and calculated the danger of apparating with so much instability around.

The Old Religion slithered around his ankle, its cloying touch still perceptible through his boot and whispered to him _no, it was too dangerous, do not risk it_.

Fuck it, Merlin thought and apparated to the roof top.

For a horrible second of limbo he thought he was going to be ripped from his body but then his feet slammed down and he was staggering in place.

“Morgana!” He coughed. “Morgana, stop this! Stop this spell, you’re going to bring reality down!” He yelled.

Morgana turned and smirked over her shoulder.

“Emrys.”

Merlin didn’t know why, after all these years, she still had the power to make his heart crack.

“No. Merlin, my lady. I always just wanted to be Merlin.”

Morgana huffed out a disbelieving bark of laughter and the air swirled and billowed and flared behind her, contorting into razor whips of slicing wind and sparking away into clouds of energy that swirled and eddied and grew into terrifying waves. Like a set of immeasurable wings, reality bent to Morgana’s command and closed in, encircling Merlin and her together on the roof top.

“I don’t care.” She whispered softly. “I’m so far beyond you now, Emrys. It doesn’t matter. You can’t stop me now that I have broken every barrier and play with reality at my fingertips. The Old Religion answers to me, and me alone!”

Behind her a ribbon of power lashed out and smashed a window that immediately swirled into twisting sand, that hardened into shimmering crystal, that scattered into the wind as tiny diamonds. It was mesmerising and terrifying in equal measure, and Merlin had the very real fear that if he looked for too long at reality hanging in ropes around him he would lose himself to it.

“The Old Religion answers to no one.” Merlin answered simply. He’d learnt that lesson in ashes and blood and loneliness.

“Because you are too weak to force its hand.” Morgana hissed back and Merlin realised then that he had truly lost her.

Long ago the Old Religion had forced immortality upon her and it had twisted her. But now? She had delved too deep into her power and it had broken her. He could hardly see where Morgana ended and magic began.

Her gaze was as shattered and writhing as the power around her and nothing remained of Morgana Pendragon. Nothing even remained of Morgana Le Fay.

He looked at her and saw the lash marks of Fate etched into her skin as clearly as it shackled his own hands. He looked into her eyes and saw _nothing_ reflected back. No emotion. No recognition, only a thirst, a need, a craving for power that even now swallowed her up.

And for the memory of his old friend; for the woman who had stood against Uther from the start; had helped save a druid boy; had been Merlin’s _friend;_ and even later for the woman who was twisted with anger and hatred but at least was still capable of _feeling.._.

In her memory Merlin reached behind and his hand closed around the hilt of Excalibur.

It probably wouldn’t work, she was as immortal as he was, but he had to _try_. Today, he’d killed a Fate. That shouldn’t have been possible either. Today was a day of impossibilities and unravelling threads and broken looms.

He drew Excalibur and it rested loosely in his side, unbalanced and half the weight it should have been.

Morgana saw it and laughed, her eyes rolling back into her head and her hair billowing around her like black oil seeping through waves.

“Morgana, please. Stop.”

She didn’t even hear him, too lost in her own enchantment.

Time narrowed to a single point and a terrible calm overtook him and muted everything else. Merlin was breathing, in and out, and then he was right in front of her. Aged eyes looking down and seeing the husk of a woman he had once known, her life thread in his hands.

Her blank, fractured eyes stared at him and her face twisted into a snarl as she lunged forward, seeing only a threat where he stood.

Merlin stabbed her with the broken shard of Excalibur and cradled her in a mockery of an embrace as she fell against him.

“Rest now, my lady.” He whispered, tears streaming unheeded down his cheeks as he realised dumbly, as from a great distance from away, that he had once again played with Life and Death and done the impossible.

Morgana was dead.

Merlin wasn’t sure how long he sat and cradled her like that, the wisps of Morgana’s enchantment falling like the rusted leaves of Autumn around them.

Morgana was dead and she hadn’t even recognised him in the end.

Was this what the Old Religion had wanted? Was this what it had planned out in all its infinite wisdom?

What good had this done? What benefit had Albion gained other than the slow torture and disintegration of one of the most vibrant women he had ever met.

Whether she had been his greatest friend or mortal enemy, Morgana had always shone with life. Like a flare from a misty lake, Morgana shone. It was beyond cruel that too much life, too much energy had killed her in the end.

He wanted to roar. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear the world apart by his bare hands and ask at the basest level why the Old Religion had done this to them.

“Fate had abandoned them.” He’d said to Morgana at the Stone Henge when he’d first seen how deep the fault lines in Morgana’s soul had riven.

He knew now that wasn’t true.

Fate hadn’t abandoned them. It had just never been on their side. It had no higher purpose. It had no great task. It just watched them and hurt them and hurt them again until they couldn’t take it anymore.

He’d told Harry the truth that he didn’t believe Arthur was coming back. It wasn’t that he’d lost faith in Arthur- never that. But he’d lost faith in the Old Religion.

He clutched Morgana tighter to him.

She deserved better than what she’d got. In life, in death. She deserved better. The thought burned Merlin inside out.

He stared unseeing into the setting sun and watched sightlessly as stars began to dot the sky.

Percy had once told him that Artemis had put a Huntress in the stars.

Morgana deserved that. She deserved that and so much more than the half-lives she had been given. The half-life of fear and secrecy under Uther, the half-life of rage and revenge on her own, the numbing effect of immortality, the crazed madness of power that had reduced her to nothing more than a shadow.

The thoughts and realisations tumbled through his head and he was startled when he looked down to see that he was standing.

Morgana _deserved more_ , he thought once again.

He glanced down at her and saw how her soul still lingered in her body, yet to fully pass into Avalon and was seized with an idea.

He had killed her in mercy. Now, in defiance of the Old Religion, he would give her life.

He turned on his heel and disappeared with a crack that echoed across the rooftops.

He appeared in a dense forest. Rain pattered above them but the thick canopy of trees stopped it from ever reaching them as Merlin strode forward with unyielding purpose. Every step that fell with a muted thud against the mossy forest floor firmed his resolve and his plan became clearer in his mind.

He came to the entrance of the Crystal Cave and didn’t falter as he stepped through. The crystals screamed at him to look and see another path, another way. But Merlin knew the Old Religion better now, instead of hope all he saw in the gleaming crystals were lies and manipulations pouring from their shimmering surface. He turned his back on each one.

He found the centre of the cave and laid Morgana down so her arms folded over her chest and her closed eyes made her seem as though she were merely sleeping.

Merlin shivered. How many times had he done this over the centuries? How many shrouds had he burnt and bodies lowered gently into the ground, always with a freshly aching heart and an incessant burning to know _why_ it had to be that way. Why he was forced to watch as time turned around him.

But this time. This time. The ceremony wasn’t death. It was life.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin knelt by her side, one hand clasping her still warm hands, the other grounded into the floor beside her.

And he thread her life through the soil like a tapestry.

With painstaking care and the burning will that lit his soul on fire he poured Morgana, everything about her, her soul, her magic, everything, into the ley lines of the Old Religion.

He had often thought of the ley lines as the veins of magic that kept magic alive in Albion. Now, he gave them a heart to beat through them.

The Earth shuddered and groaned but still Merlin kept going. The trees screamed outside and the air crackled and howled through the cave as Merlin burned the Old Religion from the inside out and gave it life as it had never had.

In the realest sense of the words he returned magic to Albion and in the same stroke returned life to Morgana. She was dead, this was true. A fact that could not be changed. But now, _now_ , she lived in every leaf, every tree, breathed in every animal, sung on every wind, rushed in every river.

A life for a life.

Finally the last lingering sigh of Morgana’s soul dissipated out through the ground wild and free and seeking and Merlin sat back on his heels and laughed.

And laughed.

And sobbed.

He collapsed against the wall behind and with shivering limbs curled into a ball.

He finally allowed himself to realise what he had done.

With that last act, he had finally forsaken Arthur. He had completed their destiny on his own and returned magic and Life to Albion.

Magic pulsed under his fingertips and the Old Religion rose from the ground totally unfamiliar to him. By giving it Morgana, he had changed its very nature by filling a cavity hollowed for magic with a soul.

Before he had been Magic Incarnate. An anomaly, a freak. Now _everything_ was magic made life.

The world had no more need of him. Morgana was dead, but she lived on and shone in every breath of Albion.

Arthur was waiting and Merlin was tired.

He was – he was done.

He shifted to trembling knees and once more his hands wrapped around the too light hilt of Excalibur.

He breathed in and out.

They were a good pair. Him, the rusted side of the coin that had stayed too long facing the storm, and the sword, missing its other half and still sharp without it, but not _whole_. Not what it was meant to be.

His fingers tightened around the hilt and he closed his eyes against the shaking pointed tip, resting it against his heart.

He breathed in and out.

His heart beat traitorously in his chest. Not fighting to get in more beats at the last second. But slow and tired and measured.

In and out. For the last time. In and out.

His soul that had been cracking and splitting and fissuring this entire time finally broke in two. Merlin felt it leave him, felt himself lighten and swell and knew his time had come.

He prepared to plunge it, when a hand not his own wrapped around the hilt and stopped the blow.

He blinked his eyes open in shock and golden hair gleaming in the crystal light, a red cape that flowed from polished chain mail and cerulean blue eyes that shone with fondness and knowing that Merlin had not seen in an age looked back at him.


	17. The Battle of Manhattan: Home Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partners in crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I hope everyone has had a good two weeks and thank you to everyone still reading - dear lord your comments are amazing and some of them nearly made me cry.
> 
> Once again: I own nothing and happy reading!!

“Oh.” The soft, startled sound left Merlin’s lips without him even realising it.

Blue met blue as Arthur’s knowing, pained eyes met Merlin’s over Excalibur between them, the jagged edge pressing on Merlin’s heart, close enough that it moved with every heartbeat, but not quite deep enough to pierce the skin.

“Put the sword down, Merlin.” Understanding and grief wrapped around each word and Merlin’s heart ached with the want to believe.

“Arthur?” He whispered.

“For me. Please. Put the sword down.” Arthur pleaded, his voice exactly as it had been a millennium ago: the worry sharpening the plea into an order; the care softening his tone; the understanding and the tiny hint of exasperation threading through in the exact cocktail that only Arthur had mastered when it came to Merlin. And for one shining second Merlin’s heart soared, and he let hope poison him.

Arthur was here and breathing, young but with eyes older than Merlin had ever seen and perfect in every aspect - except that this was impossible. 

He couldn’t be here. Arthur was dead, wasn’t coming back. And this was a trick.

Merlin was moving before he’d even realised it. He grabbed Arthur by the chainmail shirt and hauled him to his feet, slamming him against the crystal encrusted wall behind. With numb fingers he flipped the sword round and pressed it against Arthur’s throat. 

Through tear blinded eyes Merlin watched as Arthur slowly raised his hands in surrender.

He pressed the sword even closer and his magic raged behind him, splintering the crystals from their bases and shattering them against the floor; a physical manifestation of his confusion, hurt, madness and _rage_ against the Old Religion. 

‘Arthur’ still said nothing as Merlin stood there, shaking, _seething_. Barely able to form a coherent thought as he looked upon the man that, from the bottom of his heart, he never thought he’d see again.

How dare the Old Religion use this face against him - how dare it steal _this_ voice to try and keep Merlin from turning Excalibur on himself - how _dare_ it -

An enormous crash echoed throughout the room from the tunnel beyond and sent wind and dust whipping through their hair. The blast reverberated through the cave, making the crystals resonate with a high-pitched ring that pressed against their ears.

‘Arthur’ ignored all of it, his gaze firmly locked on Merlin’s wild eyes above him, and Merlin hated, _hated_ how calm he looked, when Merlin himself stood on legs that shook so violently they were almost collapsing beneath him.

“Merlin-” The imposter started. 

“No. Shut up! Shut up! You don’t get to use Arthur like this. He’s not a puppet, _I’m not your puppet_ , not anymore! I know it’s a trick, I know you’re just the Old Religion trying to get me to stay, so, please…a thousand years is enough. I can’t, I - _Arthur-_ ” 

He choked on a sob and his hand furiously dashed the tears away that turned his face into a red and splotchy mess. He could barely see Arthur through tear-blinded eyes and black dots were starting to encroach into his vision as hurt and fury and worst of all _hope_ reached up from within him and strangled his breath away. 

Arthur reached one impossibly warm, _real,_ hand up and, ignoring the sword at his throat entirely, clasped Merlin’s shaking wrist, not pushing the blade away, but simply holding him.

“I know you don’t want to believe. I know you’re scared.” He said, hard and unyielding. “Believe me, I know - the Druids weren’t joking when they said, ‘two halves of the same coin’. I’ve been sharing your soul for the last thousand or so years, so I get it, I do - but you’ve got to listen to me. This isn’t a trick. It’s me.”

“I _can’t_ -” Great shuddering, heaving, breaths stuttered Merlin’s words.

“If there’s one thing you’ve never been, Merlin, it’s a coward.” Merlin flinched but Arthur ploughed straight on, his voice the sole steady thing in the centre of the storm as he tried to make Merlin _see._ “I know you don’t believe in the Old Religion anymore, but you do believe in me. I’ve seen it every day as you force yourself to wake up. To keep going. One foot in front of the other. You’re braver than anyone I’ve ever known, please, just –” 

His eyes left Merlin’s terrified and furious gaze for the first time as he searched for the words to make this impossible request to the man that had already broken and remade himself too many times to do it once more. He shook his head as words failed him, forgetting in his frustration the sword pressed to his own throat.

The movement made the edge press too deep and a single drop of blood trickled down his neck, dark, almost black in the flickering blue glow of the crystals and shadows.

At the sight of it, Merlin recoiled back like he’d been burnt and Excalibur clattered to the ground from his numb fingers. The clang of metal against stone was loud in the sudden stillness as the storm behind them froze in place and the entire cave held its breath as Merlin looked at Arthur, terrified and so, so vulnerable.

“One last time, Merlin.” Arthur whispered, blinking hard against the tears that threatened to fall. “Believe in me, one last time.”

Arthur watched as fury blazed in Merlin’s face and braced himself as Merlin swung his open palm back and his eyes burned golden. 

The blow never came. 

Something cracked behind Merlin’s eyes and the fury bled away. This whole time Merlin had seemed to fill the cave with his fury and anger, and Arthur could admit, with his madness too, that, for a second, had seemed uncomfortably close to Morgana’s. 

But as Arthur watched, the magic, fury and madness that his immortality had smothered him in fell away. _Emrys_ fell away, until it was just Arthur and Merlin. Nothing else but them, as it always had been.

“It can’t be you, because what if I fail you again?” Merlin finally whispered.

Arthur at last understood. It wasn’t a lack of faith in Arthur. It wasn’t even a lack of faith in the Old Religion that stopped Merlin now. It was a lack of trust in himself.

“You never failed me, Merlin.” He said softly. “I asked you to stay, and you stayed. I asked you to never change, and you didn’t.” 

Arthur didn’t care that the Old Religion had had over a thousand years to chip away at Merlin. 

Merlin was _Arthur’s_ and he wasn’t giving him up to fear or Avalon that easily.

Something of that determination must have shown on his face. Or the words had impossibly pierced through the haze of fear and panic that had clouded Merlin’s mind. Arthur didn’t know what finally managed it. All he knew, was that relief slammed into him and made him weak at the knees as, for the first time, Merlin’s eyes cleared and he looked, actually _looked_ at Arthur. And instead of seeing a trick by the Old Religion, or the hope that he had crossed over and joined him in Avalon, or merely the ghost of a man long buried, he saw _Arthur._

Centuries of tension and hundreds of years of grief lifted from his shoulders, and pure, unfiltered joy stole across Merlin’s face, stretching it into the goofy grin that Arthur had missed so dearly. And in true Merlin fashion, the moment Arthur saw that it finally, finally clicked for him that Arthur was back and _standing right there_ \- his control over the crystals still suspended in the frozen storm above them slipped.

And he dropped a crystal on his head.

And passed out.

Teddy squeaked as Hestia once again pulled him into the shadows and hid her face with the hood of her cloak.

They both held their breath – Teddy with his cheeks blown out like a puffer fish – as three goddesses swept into the alley Hestia and Teddy had been hurrying down.

Mercifully, the Horai seemed more intent on arguing between themselves than keeping an eye out for any deities smuggling mortal five-year olds onto Olympus.

Still, Hestia felt her heart rabbiting in her chest and her vow stinging on her hand as their furious whispering filled the alley like a rush of wind, louder and louder as they neared until the sandaled foot of one brushed the trailing folds of her cloak. But the shadows hid her and Teddy well and the Horai passed without incident, rounding the bend of the alley with a final carrying hiss of “sister’s time”.

She heaved a quiet sigh of relief, completely unable to muster any curiosity at the odd phrase.

She looked down to see her charge swooning dramatically against the side of the dirt covered temple wall, wiping his brow with the corner of his cloak as if to say ‘that was close’.

Hestia shot an amused look at the tiny boy.

“For one so young, you are surprisingly good at this.” She murmured.

“Young?!” Teddy squawked, pushing himself off the temple wall and drawing himself up to his imposing height of all of three feet. He squinted indignantly up at her and soft lamp light from the street beyond the alley fell on his face and illuminated one chubby cheek. Hestia hastily shushed him and yanked his fallen hood back onto his head.

“Young?!” He protested again as she grabbed his hand and hurried him along. “You’re only a _bit_ older than me!”

Hestia stumbled at that gross miscalculation and hurrying him across the main road into the next side alley she muttered out of the side of her mouth, “Young Master Lupin, I am immortal.”

Just to clear that up.

“So’s daddy.” Teddy answered dismissively.

For pity’s sake. She hoped he was being purposefully obtuse.

Short of breath from the scurrying about and constant heart stopping terror of seeing anyone, when she finally caught sight of a shadowed archway, Hestia dragged them both into it immediately. Resting her head against the dusty stone wall, she decided to also take the opportunity to sort this minor miscommunication out. 

“How old do you actually think I am?” She demanded one hand against her chest to calm her breathing.

Teddy scrunched up his face in thought.

“Well, I’m five.” Teddy said in the tone of the voice that people normally reserved for such achievements as “I have a PhD”. He looked Hestia up and down and Hestia tried to inject as much “Immortal and ancient being” into her countenance as possible while carefully ignoring the fact that she was trying to impress a mortal five-year-old as she did so.

“So, you’re probably _at least_ ten.” Teddy concluded after some quick arithmetic on his little fingers.

“Well…you’re not wrong.” Hestia answered a bit faintly. It was indeed true that two millennia was more than ten.

Teddy nodded like he hadn’t, at any point, expected to be wrong.

A scuffling sound further down the alley had Hestia whipping round and stepping bodily in front of the small boy to hide him from view.

A grinning face leered out at her from the shadows and Hestia took an involuntary step back as a gleeful voice sounded through the alley, though the man’s mouth did not move.

“Hestia, Last of the Olympians. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Janus.” She greeted back in a tight voice. Her hand fumbled behind her to push Teddy further into her shadow and the safety of the archway.

She started slightly as Teddy’s small trembling hand crept into hers and she squeezed it tightly in comfort.

“Interesting to not see you with your usual crowd. Ganymede and Hecate finally drop you?”

“They are otherwise engaged. It may have escaped your notice, but we are in the middle of a war.” Hestia replied tersely.

A whirring clockwork noise, like gears churning, sounded and Janus’s head spun around on his neck completely until his grinning face was replaced by one much more serious. This time, when he spoke, he spoke with the mouth facing her.

“In the middle, yes. But the end is nearing.” He trailed off and his fingers danced in the air, twirling a coin between them. “The beginning has already begun, I think. Choices, choices…”

Despite the danger she and Teddy were in, Hestia felt a flare of indignation.

“But instead of fighting, you sit here skulking around the back alleys of Olympus waiting for other people to make these ‘choices’ for you. Some harbinger of change you are.” She mocked.

Janus’s face hardened into a stony glare.

“Do not presume to guess at my actions, Last Olympian. Would you prefer I join Hecate’s merry band of zealots? The titan rabble? Or perhaps the washed-up old Council?”

Hestia scoffed in a show of bravado she did not feel. She did not like that Janus had named Hecate’s minor gods and the Old Olympian Council as separate sides in the war and her gut twisted with the fear that, without Zeus to unite them, the consequences of the war would be more far-reaching than she had first anticipated.

Janus shot her a knowing look and Hestia hated how it made her skin crawl.

“It is interesting, is it not? How the actions of a few tiny beings can change an entire allotted course of history.”

“I have no time nor need of your riddles, Janus.”

“Of course you don’t.” He replied and sauntered passed her.

Hestia hardly dared to move as his eyes stayed fixed on her from the back of his head as he walked away. He reached the alley opening and Hestia could have screamed in frustration as he paused on the threshold.

“Some interesting choices you’ve made recently.” He remarked idly. He turned his head so the grinning side once again faced her and his mouth no longer moved with his words. “One of them in particular wraps around your hand like a binding – or perhaps…a vow?”

Hestia’s internal chant of ‘leave. leave. leave. leave. please just go away you two faced b******’ stuttered and her heart leapt into her throat. 

“You’ll tell no one. You’ve made your choice.” She risked.

Janus tilted his heads in consideration.

“For now. The crossroads will come again, though. I wonder which road you and I will choose the second time…” He hummed. “Now excuse me, Harry Potter will need my help opening some doorways on Olympus soon.”

Hestia gaped as, with that parting shot, Janus left the alley with a jaunty wave of his hand.

Silence rang in the dusty alley until a small, unsure voice broke it from behind her.

“He’s helping Daddy?”

Hestia looked both ways before kneeling down and bundling the small boy against her hip.

“For now.” She answered and hurried off into the back streets of Olympus, a new urgency in her step and a heavy dread settling around her shoulders.

Half an hour later and concerningly few encounters with any guards (she desperately hoped that had something to do with Janus and was not a reflection of how vigilant the security was currently on the Mount) and Teddy and Hestia had finally reached her temple.

The Hearth outside it was burning low but it was still hot enough to warm her face as she scurried past and she smiled at the comforting smell of woodsmoke.

The five-year-old beside her seemed to disagree with her, admittedly arson inclined, partiality and started coughing dramatically as a minute shift in the wind sent a small cloud of smoke their way.

“That is a _big_ fire.” He choked out.

Hestia steered him firmly away from the brazier and, glancing furtively over her shoulder, she quickly ducked them both through the door and heaved it shut with a satisfying thud behind her.

Finally in the safety of her temple, for the first time since she had taken the vow, she allowed herself to relax.

“Thank you. The Vestal Virgins care for it well.” She replied with a pleased smile that grew wider as she glanced down and saw Teddy’s wide-eyed stare as he took in the enormous temple stretching out in front of him and all the intricate friezes that wrapped around the entirety of the ceiling.

“Do you like it?” She asked, gratified, and somewhat soothed by his awe.

“No.” Teddy answered honestly. Hestia blinked in surprise.

“I did like the fire though.” Well, that was something at least. “Do they cook smores on it?” Teddy asked.

Hestia paused uncertainly.

“You know, I don’t know if they do.”

“You have to be really careful cooking smores.” Teddy informed her with the haunted eyes of one who had suffered much at the hands of flaming marshmallows. “One of mine catched fire once and I tried to blow it out but I missed and burnt my nose instead, look!” He ordered, and, somewhat bewildered, Hestia found herself inspecting the side of the small child’s nose.

She settled for a non-committal hum in response.

“There’s a scar there.” Teddy continued.

Hestia hadn’t seen anything but she supposed he knew his own nose better than she did.

“Daddy has a scar. It’s from a dragon an’ it’s really big. Which dragon is your favourite?” The question came suddenly and without warning in the fast-paced chatter and Hestia was caught slightly off guard.

“Well, I don’t know.” She hedged and, a little hesitantly, led the small boy deeper into the temple, lighting the wall sconces and activating wards with a wave of her hand as they passed.

She had hoped that the magnificent temple would distract the boy from his questioning, or perhaps the adrenaline crash of finally reaching safety after their nerve-wracking ordeal would send him to sleep. However, no matter how many wards she activated and fires she lit, Teddy did not stop staring at her and waiting for her answer to his question.

Unfortunately, no one had ever asked Hestia what her favourite dragon was before and she found herself somewhat ill-equipped with dragon knowledge to give an immediate answer.

Teddy seemed to realise the problem after the third room she led him through without voicing her opinion and his eyes became very round and very worried.

“You don’t know which dragon is your favourite?!”

Hestia floundered.

“I like all of them.” She finally settled on.

With a sigh of relief, she opened the door to the back-kitchen room of the temple. At last they had reached the safety of the inner temple and the vow that had been flaring on her hand the entire time that they had snuck through Olympus settled down to a low itch.

However, her answer appeared to be unsatisfactory.

“You can’t like _every_ dragon!” Teddy protested.

Hestia flinched in alarm as, no sooner had the door shut and locked itself, one of her outer wards blared an alarm.

Immediately, she hurried over to one of the unlit braziers hidden in the corner. With a wave of her hand she removed everything flammable inside, leaving it a safe hiding place for her young charge with the added benefit of protecting him from most of her flame powers.

Powers that she was very much hoping she would not have to use.

Satisfied with the hiding spot, she dashed over to the young boy who was still babbling about dragons and, picking him up, she deposited him safely in the steel drum to the backdrop of:

“Fr’instance the Hungarian Horntail. That one’s _rubbish_. Daddy beat that with a broomstick.”

“Really now.” She replied, distracted by the blaring of three more alarms, each closer than the last.

“Miss Hestia, should that be making that noise?” Teddy piped up from his steel drum.

Hestia had to give it to him, he was the first to have such a total lack of faith in her skills of perception.

“No, Mister Lupin. It should not.” She replied over her shoulder from where she had been busy solidifying several planes of existence in all the doorways in the temple in an attempt to slow their attackers down.

Even as she finished, one of the outer doors gave way with a resounding boom and Teddy squeaked in shock.

“Are they attacking?!” He yelped, chubby hands over his ears and very small in his very large brazier.

Two more alarms blared and Hestia’s vow hand flared a sickly red.

“Do you have any Daily Prophets?” Teddy yelled to her over the din.

She turned in confusion, lowering the frying pan she had hefted into her hands as a final form of defence for hand to hand combat.

“No?” She said, though it sounded more like a question.

“Oh. That’s a shame. Daddy says they’re only good for burning and I thought maybe we could make a fire with them.”

Hestia merely stared at the boy.

“Do you have any lego?” He asked, not deterred in the least by her lack of enthusiasm in his suggestions.

“ _Why_?”

“It really hurts if you step on it.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

Teddy nodded.

Several loud bangs happened in quick succession from beyond the door and Hestia started backing up to the brazier where Teddy stood, his head poking over the top.

“Goddess!” Several voices shouted from beyond the doors, all from different directions.

For the first time, Hestia questioned her wisdom in choosing to hole them up in the centre room of the temple. It had the largest Hearth and her powers were strongest here, but it left them vulnerable from all sides.

How these monsters had even managed to reach Olympus so quickly was anyone’s guess and she sent a quick prayer to the Fates that Janus had managed to get Harry Potter safely through to the Upper Levels. Though she hated to admit it, she was not a battle goddess and she needed the help.

Several explosions happened behind the door and the entire temple rocked.

She glanced down at Teddy in the brazier. He looked back, wide eyed. Innocent. Insufficiently protected. She had been a fool to take this vow. She couldn’t protect the child on her own.

She wished Ganymede hadn’t gone to fight Typhon and monitor Hecate. She wished Hecate wasn’t busy using the war to marshal her own private minor god army. She wished Zeus wasn’t dead.

Later she would blame her actions on a moment of blind panic as an outside explosion followed by mad whooping and hollering from unseen foes shook her temple to its very foundations.

In truth, she had no idea what came over her. What possessed her to think her next action was a good idea.

Her only excuse was that Hestia had never claimed to be the mothering type. She was homely in the sisterly type of way. And so, when she decided to turn Teddy Lupin invisible to hide him from the fast approaching attackers, she did it with a total lack of parental instincts to inform her common sense that this was a _terrible idea_.

And so, in the midst of battle, Teddy Lupin was turned invisible.

The moment he flickered out of sight, several things happened at once.

The door burst open and a flood of monsters streamed into the room with ear shattering yells and snarls.

And Hestia launched her frying pan at the closest and it immediately burst into a cloud of dust.

And, with disconcerting accuracy for a five-year-old, Teddy lobbed several of the more _experimental_ sweets from the R&D department of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, that Ron had slipped him with a wink for exactly this sort of occasion, straight into the open mouths of some nearby dracaena.

They didn’t die, but it was extremely difficult to attack when one’s tongue started growing uncontrollably from one’s mouth. So Teddy counted that a win and scurried out of the room, already digging around in his pockets for more contraband with which to wreak havoc.

Hestia, starting to wonder whether her vow was more to protect Teddy from his own creativity than from the monsters, threw another frying pan.

Teddy dropped several decoy detonators into a convenient nearby sack and had the dubious delight of discovering just how flammable flour was.

Merlin came to with a stinging cheek.

“You slapped me?”

“You passed out!”

“So you _slapped_ me?”

“Well, you’re awake now, aren’t you?”

“You and I need to have a serious discussion about ends and means, and we’ll just squeeze justification in the middle there.”

Arthur huffed a laugh and Merlin froze as his brain finally caught up to the situation. It was ridiculous really that it was so easy to fall back into bickering with Arthur that he had practically done it by reflex.

He blinked up dazedly at Arthur’s laughing face and simply drank in the sight of him. Hair like spun gold, flickering in the blue light. Laugh lines that were just starting to crinkle the edges of dancing eyes. Hands warm and real and resting on Merlin’s shoulder, no warmer than an average hand but seeming to burn through the thin material of Merlin’s blue charity shop sweater anyway.

“You’re really here.” He breathed out and Arthur seemed to notice the change in tone as the joviality drained from his face and left something altogether more heartfelt in its place.

“I’m really here.” He answered, thought it felt more like a promise.

Merlin’s response was out of his mouth before he could grab it back.

“You took your bloody time.”

Arthur didn’t even look shocked; he rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice, Merlin. I haven’t been hitting snooze since the fifteenth century.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you, you always were impossible to wake up in the mornings.”

“ _Me_ rlin…”

“I missed you.”

Did Merlin simply not have a filter? Was it gone? Had he lost a custody battle over it recently and not realised until now? That was a shame, he’d like it back thanks very much.

He expected Arthur to brush it off, look uncomfortable and turn away. But Arthur surprised him and held his gaze. Steady and comforting in a way only Arthur was.

Arthur’s hand came up between them and gently brushed away a stray tear on Merlin’s cheek with a wondering look, as though it was as strange for him to see Merlin’s face as it was for Merlin to see Arthur’s. His fingers passed over the slight stubble growing on Merlin’s jaw and he raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you didn’t age?”

“Long-term aging spell.” Merlin muttered back. “Allows me to blend in and, well - it reminds me that time still passes and I can’t just…stop.”

Arthur huffed a soft laugh.

“It’s strange. I almost can’t imagine you ‘stopping’. For such a lazy servant you always were rushing about the place.” He dropped his hand and Merlin felt cold without it. “Obviously, now I know it was probably sorcery that kept you so busy.”

Merlin flinched.

“At some point, Merlin, we are going to have to talk about it – magic, Camelot, everything.”

“I know.” He said quietly. His voice felt strange and foreign in his throat and the admittance sat heavy on his tongue.

Logically, he knew that Arthur had forgiven him for the magic before he died, but a tiny vicious part of him had always wondered if Arthur would have made the same choice, said the same things if he _hadn’t_ been dying.

It was one of the things he regretted most, telling Arthur everything only on his deathbed. Really, it had given neither of them closure. The thought stopped Merlin cold. Arthur had died (and wasn’t it incredible that he could think of that and not feel like he was dying along with the memory). And now he was back – and he seemed strangely normal. _Extremely well-adjusted_ in fact for someone who, from his perspective, had not half an hour ago been bleeding out by a lakeside.

He squinted up at Arthur.

“You’re taking this all very well.” He said cautiously.

Arthur suddenly wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“Yes, well-“

“And didn’t you say something about the Druids?” Merlin suddenly realised.

Arthur now looked very uncomfortable. He opened his mouth then shut it again with an odd smile playing about his mouth as he watched Merlin scramble up, so they were both standing in the centre of the dusty cave, smashed crystals crunching under their feet. White light filtered through from above, illuminating them both with unearthly halos that gave the entire conversation a strange sense of intangibility.

“You really don’t know anything do you?” He said in a musing tone.

Merlin was beginning to reach his limit where insulting began to outweigh nostalgia on his ‘how much shit he was willing to put up with from Arthur’ scale.

Arthur seemed to realise this.

“I never left.” He finally explained with an odd, jerky shrug. His hands hung awkwardly at his sides.

Merlin _looked_ at Arthur.

“You never – right. And a proper explanation this time?”

“I never left. I was…it’s difficult to explain.”

“Well don’t strain yourself-“

“Merlin, please, I’m trying.”

Merlin couldn’t help himself. He started grinning like an idiot. He could feel it stretching at his face muscles, almost hurting where it pulled at his cheeks. But for the life of him he couldn’t stop. It was just – being here, bickering with Arthur, the ‘please’ Gwen had drummed into him coming out effortlessly as long as it was said with just the right amount of irritation.

It was so painfully familiar that nothing else mattered. The words unspoken, the history between them – the good and the bad – it didn’t matter, because Arthur was here and _alive_.

He was so caught up in his joy he almost missed it when Arthur spoke again.

“The Druids said we were two sides of the same coin, yes?”

Merlin blinked himself back to reality and nodded his head slowly.

“What they meant was that we were two halves of a larger whole. I’ve been – I’ve been, well, sharing your soul for the last millennia or so.” Arthur finished.

A beat.

“I’m sorry. I must have misheard you – did you just say, ‘ _sharing my soul_ ’?”

“Until recently, yes.”

“I see. And what happened recently that stopped you from squatting in my consciousness?”

“Merlin-”

Merlin laughed nervously and, he was big enough to admit, a bit hysterically, desperately hoping that Arthur would start laughing along with him with great guffaw and a cheerful ‘almost got you there!’

Arthur looked stonily back.

“Oh goddess, you’re serious.” Merlin realised with a sick feeling in his stomach.

Arthur suddenly became very interested in the cave wall.

“You saw _everything_? You’ve been awake the whole time?” Merlin was starting to hyperventilate.

His mind immediately flashed to the few times in his long, long life that he had been genuinely glad that Arthur hadn’t been there to see him. The unfortunate situation in Hotel Saint-Pol with King Charles VI and the Duke of Orleans sprung to mind. And that time with the ancient singing cult in Italy he’d apparently joined by accident. And that thing with the horse when he first met Ganymede - Merlin had thanked his very few and distressingly inactive lucky stars that Arthur hadn’t seen _that_.

“Not awake, no.” Arthur clarified, seemingly unsure of the words himself, and Merlin allowed himself to relax infinitesimally. “I don’t know how to describe it. I was a part of you. I felt what you felt but I didn’t know the details, the reasons. I wasn’t even aware at the time. It was only at the Stone Henge when you did something – I don’t know what. And I started coming back properly.”

Merlin let Arthur’s voice wash over him and calm his rabbiting heartbeat.

“-and then you almost got yourself killed and I worked out that for tiny moments I could manifest outside of you. I definitely terrified your friend – Percy? I think Harry saw me too, but he seemed to take it in his stride.”

Merlin returned to the present with a bump. “Wait, what do you mean ‘manifest’?”

“You haven’t noticed a golden shadow following you around and frequently saving your life?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“No?”

“Well, that’s reassuring. As ever your powers of observation concern me.”

Merlin elected to ignore that and focus on the important things at hand.

“So you know what’s been going on with the Greeks and the Titans and Kronos?”

The atmosphere in the cave became charged with energy as they both seemed to realise at the same time that, while they had been talking, a war had been going on. And they were needed.

“Pretty useless king I’d be if I didn’t.” Arthur replied with a quirk of an eyebrow, striding over to the far corner of the cave where Merlin had flung his sword, what now felt like hours ago.

Merlin watched him with fond eyes then choked as the most glorious thought occurred to him. The UK already had a Queen - which meant Arthur was going to have to get a _job._

Arthur picked up Excalibur and flipped it around in his hand a few times, in a way Merlin had almost forgotten he used to do.

“Merlin, you broke my sword.” He finally stated in a tone that suggested he really wasn’t sure why he had expected anything else.

“I didn’t mean to.” Merlin offered.

“Oh, you didn’t mean to? That makes it all better – I’ll just stab our enemies with your good intentions then, shall I?”

“Goddess, you’re a prat.” Merlin muttered.

“What did you say?”

“I said ‘goodness look at that’.” Merlin smiled and waved vaguely around, putting absolutely no effort into the blatant cover up. Arthur fixed Merlin with a _look_.

“Oh, I know that face-“

“Merlin, stop messing around. We need to rejoin the battle and I can’t do that with a broken sword. Fix it.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because it won’t work anymore!”

“It’s a sword, Merlin. If it’s pointy, it works.”

Merlin hastily took the broken shard from where Arthur was gesturing with it in irritation.

“I _meant_ it wouldn’t have the power over Life and Death anymore.”

“That’s a bit harsh. It’s a bit short and dull but with a good stab it’d do some damage.”

“A bit like you then.”

“Merlin.”

“Sorry, sire.” The grin that stretched from ear to ear was quickly stifled as Merlin realised how long Harry and the others had been left to the battle without him. “To kill Kronos we need a sword forged in a dragon’s breath or…”

He hesitated.

“Or…?” Arthur prompted.

“Or for me to get lucky again and my magic to do all the work.”

Merlin studiously avoided looking at Arthur as he said this and focused with unnatural intensity on the cave wall, his stomach clenching and his hands clammy at his sides.

Arthur sighed.

“Later, Merlin. I know I said that we’d talk, and I meant it, but now is not the time.”

Merlin risked a look at Arthur. His jaw was set and he had an intense look in his eyes that Merlin had only seen before battle.

“In the meantime, you can magic me a sword.”

“Yes. But it won’t have the power the last one did-“

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Arthur-“

“Merlin. I trust you. Make me a sword.”

Merlin closed his eyes and breathed out shakily as deep within him a wound so long ago driven Merlin had almost forgotten it was there, slowly started to heal at Arthur’s words.

He extended trembling hands and pulled his will and magic, shaping it into a sharp point as he had taught Harry to do. He poured everything into it. His belief in Arthur, the memory of his grief of the last thousand years, his joy and determination to keep Arthur alive now. It all convalesced into a single stinging blade: into a sword that Arthur would trust with his life. Made out of Merlin’s magic, without secrecy. For that alone it meant more to Merlin than Excalibur ever could have.

He peeked one eye open and the first thing he saw was Arthur’s unreadable expression.

Arthur reached one hand out and grasped the hilt. Merlin let him take it and the sword sung through the air as Arthur gave it an experimental swing.

“Thank you, Merlin.” He said.

Merlin didn’t trust himself to respond so simply nodded.

Arthur sheathed the sword and his hand once again came up to grasp Merlin’s forearm.

“Take us to Olympus. Or is such a feat beyond your capabilities?” He asked with a crooked smile.

Merlin scoffed and with a blinding grin, his eyes flared gold.

Teddy cackled as he launched another Exploding Snap card, carefully folded into a paper aeroplane, at the monsters below.

It connected with a monster’s head and exploded with a satisfying bang.

His hand dug around in his pocket and his face morphed into a pouting scowl as he realised he’d finally run out of Exploding Snap cards.

No matter. His pockets were large and the amount of contraband Harry’s friends had slipped him with a wink over the years was extensive.

He loved being five.

He grinned wickedly and his hair flashed yellow in delight – a strange sight considering the rest of him was invisible - and his fingers closed around a small spiky plant carefully nestled in his pocket.

With delight that would have had Harry rushing immediately to stop him, and everyone else running for the hills, Teddy held up the tiny Mimbulus Mimletonia in one hand and a sharp quill in the other.

He glanced down at the monsters beneath that were all running around in disarray from Teddy’s continuous aerial attacks and he carefully marked out his next target.

Ron had taught him that in Quidditch you always pick the biggest player to make an example of. He had used a lot of long words that Teddy didn’t really understand but he had got the gist in the end.

A great lumbering giant of a monster roared from below and Teddy carefully lodged his small homemade catapult in place. This was going to be a delicate operation but Teddy would manage it. Because Teddy was awesome.

His tongue peeking out in concentration, Teddy lined up the catapult and loaded the Mimbulus Mimbletonia with his quill at the ready.

He closed one eye like he had seen one of the illustrations do in his favourite book, then quickly opened it again as he realised he couldn’t really close one eye without closing the other.

He stabbed the quill and sap exploded everywhere just as Teddy let it loose.

The monster below roared as stink sap rained down on it from on high and blinded it.

All the other monsters around it began to look around nervously and if Teddy had ever had a sip of alcohol he would have likened the adrenaline rush to being drunk on power.

He dipped his hand back into his pockets of mass destruction and decided the time had come to abandon the high ground and take the fight to them.

He gleefully ignored Miss Hestia’s calling of his name and even more gleefully turned conveniently deaf to her wails at the destruction to her temple.

Really. It was a battle. What else had she been expecting?

Shaking his head in exasperation, he shimmied down the column using extreme pritt-stick, that he had swiped from the crafts drawer some time ago now, to cling to the marble. At the base of the column he paused a moment to peel off the glue layer and immensely enjoyed the satisfying feeling of it peeling off in one smooth motion.

A crash sounded to his right and Teddy wove through the rabble’s feet, ducking and diving and using his new invisibility to full effect.

As he went, he dropped Chocolate Frog cards to the floor with reckless abandon. Once he had reached the safety of a small alcove he peeked his head round and watched in satisfaction as several monsters slipped on the cards. A slimy, scaly monster slipped on one and the card slid over to him, coming to a stop just at his feet. Morgana’s face winked up at him and Teddy stuck his tongue out at her.

A scream sounded from where Teddy had left Miss Hestia in the inner temple and Teddy started to feel the first twinges of worry for her. He quickly glanced around and decided to pull out the big guns.

Two glass baubles clinked against his fingers and Teddy pulled them out in interest. From his other pocket he pulled out several crumbling biscuits.

Now this. This was good. Teddy could work with this.

A resounding bang echoed throughout the temple and Teddy’s nerve almost failed him as through the great front doors a tall man that _oozed_ power strode through.

He took in the carnage with an unimpressed raised eyebrow and Teddy decided he had done enough planning.

With a yell he lobbed the brown, murky bauble at the man’s feet and watched in satisfaction as a swamp immediately burst out of it in an unstoppable wave that took everyone around it by surprise and swallowed them in brown goo.

Teddy quickly stuffed the Canary Creams into his mouth and with his other hand threw the snow globe right where the first bauble had struck.

Everything immediately turned to ice and the swamp froze over under a smothering blanket of snow. At the same time Teddy flapped his wings smugly and flew himself somewhat clumsily to a nearby perch, safe from the icy bog below by virtue of the fact that five year olds, when they consume Canary Creams, become light enough to fly.

Something that more people would know, if they read the small print.

Harry had learnt the need to read the small print. In fact, Harry quite frequently wrote the small print.

This was a nostalgic moment for Teddy.

The large man below him roared in rage as he burst out of his snow-man encasing.

Teddy scrambled back on his ledge, his joy at his success fading as the pure rage pouring from the man seemed to melt the snow around him.

Digging in his pockets, Teddy found one last piece of contraband, long concealed from Harry. With a passing thought of ‘this should be interesting’ he let it fly.

Several crashes and a chorus of screaming began to sound from outside the temple and the very floor began to rumble. Teddy looked down in consternation – this wasn’t his handiwork, and by the nervous looks on all the monster’s faces, they hadn’t called in back up either.

A final resounding boom echoed from outside and ricocheted through the open temple like a bell and every head turned to the open doors.

Harry Potter stormed in and paused on the threshold, his silhouette illuminated in the sun set, cape flowing around him and wild magic crackling at his fingertips.

He took one look round at the monsters frozen in the snow-bog, the chocolate frog cards plastered to the walls, and Prometheus in the centre, feet frozen in place and fending off a violent fanged frizbee, and his eyes immediately zoomed in on an untidy mop of canary yellow hair in the rafters of the temple.

Teddy felt himself once more burst into a canary and gave a guilty chirp.

Harry sighed.


	18. The Battle of Manhattan: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> I am sorry this is like a week late! At lot of exciting things have been happening and its all been a bit of a whirlwind.
> 
> It sounds insincere because of how much I say it, but the comments last chapter genuinely took my breath away. I read them so much and they really kept me driving to sort myself out and get this chapter up and running.
> 
> Thank you again for your continued support - and once more: I own nothing and happy reading!

As the fiery glow of twilight cauterised the wounds the day had stung, a hush fell over Central Park.

For hours it had been a hub of activity as Hyperion gathered forces into a legion any roman would have been proud of. Laestrygonian giants lumbered, dracanae hissed and coblynau swarmed. But then, unanticipated and enormous in its influence, a burst of energy rent through every Greek monster and destabilised them, spinning them around and set them in a new place on the chessboard.

Hyperion chuckled, and raised one enormous hand to salute the stars.

“A new era indeed. I’m glad you understand.” He murmured and his golden eyes turned to where, instinctively, he felt the mantel of the Fates shift.

He canted his head to the side as new possibilities opened up before him and ignored the underlings scrabbling at his feet.

“No matter.” He finally decided. “We will know who the Morai have chosen soon enough. They can join, or they can burn.” He turned back to directing his forces and waiting for the signal. He so enjoyed a war won without trickery – only simple brutal strength.

He did not expect, mere minutes later, for the entire Balance to shift again. And he _certainly_ did not expect for half of his army to simultaneously burst into flames.

Cloying red smoke sparked into the air and their eyes glowed in the twilight, forming a nebula of strobing red light that twisted in the wind and suffocated the air. Hyperion looked down on them in shock. They did not appear to be in pain – though some of the less useless ones appeared to be convulsing.

One thing was very evident.

“Emrys has been busy.” Hyperion laughed quietly.

While Merlin was burning the Old Religion inside out and the Once and Future King rose; while Hyperion was chuckling cryptic things to himself and marshalling an army; while Harry was storming Olympus with a two faced god looking for his wayward godson; and while Hecate was rousing her forces to a final assault on Typhon – in short, while a lot of people were doing a lot of things they really hadn’t expected to be doing any time soon – Percy and Annabeth were running. Which, actually, Percy had been anticipating.

With the amount of it Percy had been doing recently he was starting to think he should apply for a cross country scholarship somewhere. Surely fleeing from certain death was a transferrable skill? Could he put ‘not dead yet :)’ in his admissions essay for college?

They stumbled into Central Park, huffing and red in the face with sore legs and weapons gripped in sweaty hands.

“Di Immortales.” Annabeth swore from beside him and Percy very much didn’t want to look and see what they had sprinted across New York to confront.

As tended to happen in situations where Percy really didn’t want to look and face reality, he ended up looking.

A burning army looked back. A burning army and a horde of Scythian dracanae. A burning army, a horde of Scythian dracanae and - oh look. A mcfreakin’ titan. Of course there was. Today was just turning out to be one of those days.

“We might need reinforcements.” Annabeth said, poker-faced.

“Oh, I don’t know. I reckon we could take them. Only _half_ of them are on fire.” Percy replied in an even voice.

One time. _One time_ was all Percy asked for where he ended up looking – and you know what? It really wasn’t as bad as he had feared! That happy hour was not yet upon them though and thus: a titan.

A titan that was now looking right at them.

Percy swore and with a strangled curse he yanked Annabeth behind a nearby tree trunk and held her tightly against him, so close he was sure she could hear his heart battering against his ribcage.

“Um, Percy?” Annabeth said, her cheek smushed against Percy’s arms and her voice coming out muffled and garbled.

Percy abruptly found it very difficult to answer. See, the thing is, he hadn’t quite anticipated how close he had pulled Annabeth when initially diving for the tree and was consequently not sure if he should be focusing more on the fact that he could literally feel the Titan’s burning golden eyes blazing into the back of the tree or the fact that he could also feel _Annabeth’s_ heartbeat with how close he was holding her. They were very close.

“Percy I can’t breathe.”

“Right.” Percy said and didn’t move. His brain still wasn't quite with it. And then it was and ohshitfuckAnnabeth-close-arms-ohheythat’shermouth- _moveyoudipshit_.

The amazing thing about when you just totally zone out and your heart kind of maybe stops beating – is that when you zone back in, everything is going at like _double speed._ Percy flung himself across to the next tree along and pressed himself against it, heart pounding in his ears.

“Sorrysorrysorrypleasedon’tkickmybutt.” He babbled out.

“Percy are you _blushing_?” Annabeth asked.

Yes. Yes, he definitely was. “We should call Thalia.” Percy answered.

“Percy-“

“And Grover. I’m gonna call Grover. He feels weird but he’s definitely near. This is the first I’ve felt him in months! Isn’t that great! Oh, I’m so happy.” Percy was well aware that in no way was that subject change smooth, but it gave him a kind of mad glee to do the conversational equivalent of sticking your fingers in your ears and singing with quite such reckless abandon.

“You’re cute when you’re stressed.” Annabeth told him idly, as she peered out around her tree. Percy’s head snapped up so fast he whacked it on the bark behind. “Your eyebrows get all scrunched together.”

“Annabeth there is a titan next to that lake.”

“Yeah, I know. Just thought I should tell you, that’s all.”

Well now Percy was definitely blushing. But at least he was no longer panicking, and the drumbeat of his pulse wasn’t roaring in his ears any more.

He glanced over at Annabeth in relief only to see that she was trying to hide a smile in the shadows of the tree.

“You’re laughing at me!” He complained.

“I am not!”

“Right. Let’s just - let’s just call Thalia and Grover.”

Annabeth sobered and darted one last look at the army nearby.

“Let’s hope she’s not somewhere sunny.” She muttered darkly.

What an astoundingly good point.

“Fuck.”

“Demigods here! Calling for reinforcements!” Annabeth mock cheered.

“Just follow the light and eat them if you’re feeling peckish.” Percy added the subheading and, with gritted teeth, waved his hand to make a rainbow out of the melted snow on the nearby leaves.

Annabeth took a deep breath and tossed the drachma in.

A dark screen shimmered to life and both of them sagged against their respective trees at the sight of shadows streaked purple and blue with the reflection of the fading evening light on the IM screen. At least until a low growl, the sound of a train rattling on its rails and a flash of silver had them both standing an alert.

“You good there, Thalia?” Percy asked tentatively.

Creative swearing and loud thuds that Percy was reasonably confident were punches answered.

“Thalia?” Annabeth called again, an edge of tension in her voice.

“Annabeth! Kelp-head!” Came a breathless yell. “Sorry, a bit busy right now!”

“Oh, she answers you alright.” Percy muttered and, reassured that Thalia was alive and kicking, he turned his focus inwards to the weird humming at the base of his skull that the empathy link had become.

“Where are you? I thought you were seiging the bridges!” Annabeth asked from beside him and Percy tried, and failed, to block her out to focus on following the link.

“Yeah we did that easily.” Thalia yelled back. Percy ignored her and was rewarded with a glimpse of a sturdy Elm tree with something stirring at the roots before he lost the image again. “Then some motherfuckers broke through the traps into the subway – yeah, I’m talking about you ugly!” A thud. More rattling. “Let me tell you, Phoebe was not happy. Anyway, we’ve blocked them in but I’ve had a pretty shitty time of it James Bonding the suckers in the trains.”

There was a final shout of victory and Percy was unable to resist cracking one eye open just in time to see a blur of golden dust before he focused on following the link again.

“Wait, you’re on a train? How are they running?” Annabeth asked, alarmed.

“We’ve got a few daughters of Hephaestus on the team. Don’t sweat it. What’s Ariel over there doing?”

“He’s calling Grover.”

“Or at least he’s trying to!” Percy growled out, losing the image again. He’d just managed to glimpse Grover covered in twigs and leaves as though he’d been there for so long he’d begun merging with the forest floor when Thalia had distracted him.

 _G-man, wake up!_ he tried sending verbally over the link. He didn’t feel anything beyond a weird yawning sensation in response.

A muffled bang and strange hissing from Thalia’s end had Percy fully opening his eyes in irritation. The insult died on his tongue though when, through the IM, Percy watched in horror as the carriage door jerked open and a dracanae rushed out of it, claws outstretched. Without hesitation, Thalia chucked a knife straight into its chest. The train passed a station and the cheap fluorescent lights briefly bathed the cabin in an orange hue, illuminating the dracanae’s look of shock as she burst into a shimmering cloud of dust.

The train rattled past the station and the carriage was plunged back into darkness, though one of the overhead lights sparked and flickered around where a previous knife had smashed the bulb and embedded itself into the ceiling.

Thalia smirked in victory and, huffing a stray hair out of her eyes, turned back to Percy and Annabeth.

“It’s not my fault you’re having problems getting lucky.” Thalia answered with a smile that was all teeth.

Percy decided to use his anger constructively and sent the mental equivalent of an ear shattering yell Grover’s way.

 _FOOD. PANCAKES._ He roared.

Grover’s eyes shot open and a blur of thoughts filled Percy’s head like he was suddenly on fast-forward.

“Pe-er-cy?” Grover bleated out around a yawn.

_Listen, we don’t have time. There’s a huge army near the Lake. We need you to wake the Nature Spirits and lead a force there. A flank attack should work._

_Percy, what?_ Grover’s thoughts, jumbled and sleep addled, trickled back to him and Percy shook his head to clear it of the soporific effect. Grover stumbled to his feet and Percy was surprised for a moment to see that Grover had become taller than him. His hair had grown so long his horns were barely visible above his curls and his t-shirt was so covered in dirt and tree sap he almost couldn’t work out the ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ emblazoned on it in faded print.

 _Titan. Burning army. Here in Central Park now, and we need your help._ He shot out, more than a little tersely, it must be admitted. But come on. He felt that was justified considering the circumstances.

For a few weeks there, Percy had actually allowed himself to dream of living till his sixteenth birthday. With every passing year it had seemed more and more unlikely, but with Harry and Merlin’s help and the camp behind him, he’d actually had hope. He’d thought about having a party. Annabeth would be there. His mum would laugh and light the candles. Everything would have been fun and carefree. That dream was gone now though. Extinguished by the burning army across the lake and the smoke suffocating the air. And Grover had been missing for all of it – apparently sleeping.

 _Just get over here._ Percy sent before retreating back into his own mind and bracing himself for more of Thalia’s barbs.

“Grover’s coming.” He informed them.

Annabeth shot him a grateful look. Thalia’s shoulders didn’t relax.

“This army. On a scale from ‘The number of men Artemis likes’ to ‘the amount of McDonald’s I’m banned from’, how big we talking?”

Good, Annabeth had filled her in then. Hang on-

“Why is that your largest unit of measurement?” He asked, derailed.

“Let’s just say the mist does _not_ work in my favour on the reg.” Thalia grimaced. Percy grinned. Annabeth nipped that distraction in the bud.

“They’re around a hundred strong and have a titan on their side. How many can you spare?”

“How many have you got on your side so far?” Thalia asked, swaying with the tilting of her train carriage.

“Right now? Two.” Percy answered bleakly. “Grover’s heading over though and he’s trying to wake the nature spirits on the way.”

To her credit, Thalia didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“Add me and we’ve got the legal minimum for a riot. Or a party.” She tapped her shield and it folded up into its bracelet form. “I’ll be right there.”

“Bring friends.” Annabeth answered.

A sound came from outside her carriage and Thalia rolled her shoulders and unsheathed a knife from where she’d strapped several around her thigh. Turning to face the carriage door she spoke over her shoulder,

“We can spare a dozen. Will that be enough?”

“It’ll have to be.” Annabeth answered grimly. “We can’t move any of the others, we’re already overextended trying to hold off a second attack coming in from Queens Midtown.”

Percy resisted the urge to close his eyes against the reminder. Gods they really were screwed weren’t they. All that stood between Olympus and certain annihilation at this point was a few teenagers trying their best and dammit but caffeine and desperation only got him so far.

Thalia seemed to be thinking along the same lines since her mouth twisted into a grimace.

“Where are your wizard buddies?” She asked.

“Harry’s on Olympus, Merlin’s fighting Morgana, and Ron and Hermione are trying to stop the entire city from burning down.” Percy summarised. All important things to do. He got that. But this particular snake wasn’t just going to die once they cut the head off it and a part of him wished they’d all stuck together and taken every part of the army as a group.

They could do with the back-up, he thought, trying not to once again think about that dream birthday party.

The thought had no sooner crossed his mind when a loud growl and the tumbling of heavy feet pounding against the forest floor sounded ahead of them and a loud crack echoed through the trees just beyond their sightline.

Annabeth and Percy immediately drew their weapons and readied them, Annabeth taking the time to swipe through the message with a hurried, “Get here as quickly as you can, and stay safe!”.

The message dissolved and Percy and Annabeth were left standing taught as bowstrings as the heavy paw thuds grew closer and closer and the sounds of branches snapping and leaves whipping neared them.

Suddenly, there was an enraged snarl, the metallic schink of a sword being drawn and a warning shout.

“Arthur!”

“Oh, holy mother of-“

A flash of gold through the dense forest, a thud and then silence.

Percy looked at Annabeth with wide eyes. That couldn’t be…no. He had imagined it. There was no way that had been Merlin’s voice.

“Merlin, you clotpole!” Came an exasperated shout from somewhere up ahead. “You dunked us on a hellhound! You know, when I said, ‘Is such a feat beyond your capabilities’, I wasn’t actually asking!”

“You’ve been waiting to say clotpole for a while now haven’t you.” Replied an all too familiar amused and entirely unrepentant voice. Percy finally allowed the tightly coiled ball of fear in his stomach to unravel the smallest amount. Help. Help had come.

“Olympus!” The other voice reminded.

“Yeah, sorry. I meant to go there! But then I heard Percy praying to me.”

“ _Praying_?” The voice spluttered. “Are they alright?” It asked in a much more concerned tone.

Percy felt himself warming to this new ally.

“As far as I can tell.” Merlin replied, and quick footfalls sounded through the undergrowth as they hurried over. A chink of chainmail and twigs crunching underfoot and then-

“You still could have mentioned it sooner than mid-jump. I almost lost my stomach changing directions.”

“Might have been a blessing. You’d almost be able to fit into your old belt if that happened.”

“Merlin, I don’t pay you to make comments about my weight, and I’ll thank you not to.”

“You don’t pay me at all.” A huff. “I should join a Union.”

Percy could safely say that he’d never heard two people bicker more while in imminent danger. And that included George and Martha the snakes.

The bushes directly in front of them gave a final rustle and the familiar figure of Merlin stumbled through the tree line, a blonde man trailing after him, in full chainmail and deep red cloak, with a strange mix of fondness and disgruntlement painted upon his face. Percy had just opened his mouth to greet him when Merlin looked up from his feet, took in Percy and Annabeth hiding behind the trees and the army massing behind, and immediately snapped into action. With surprising strength, he dragged the blonde man behind a tree and dove behind his own. A flash of gold in his eyes and his staff lengthened and fell into his hand, broken Excalibur clasped in the other.

“Percy. Annabeth.” He greeted.

“Man am I glad to see you.” Percy answered flipping Riptide in his hand and risking a quick look out at the enemy.

Merlin glanced over at him. “Sorry about the wait. I was – well, Percy and Annabeth, this is Arthur.” At the name, he scratched his head and looked down, a soft and faintly disbelieving smile playing about his mouth.

“Arthur?” Annabeth choked.

A lightbulb went on in Percy’s head.

“Like _King_ Arthur?”

King Arthur looked rather pleased at that.

“You see, Merlin.” He murmured in an undertone Percy was sure they weren’t supposed to hear. “ _King_. _Respect_.” He emphasised without bite.

“The smoke. Do you know what’s causing it?” Merlin asked looking back over the army with a worried look and ignoring his long awaited, recently resurrected, King with a dignity that Percy aspired to.

“We kind of thought it was something you’d done.” Annabeth said hesitantly.

Had they? Percy hadn’t really got further than thinking, ‘that’s gonna be really hard to stab.’

“ _Me?_ ” Merlin asked. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“You _are_ a god. You have the influence to do it.” Annabeth shrugged. Merlin looked very thoughtful.

“We can figure it out later.” Arthur said firmly. “For now there is an army on our doorstep and four of us. Now Gwaine might like those odds but I don’t. Do you have allies coming?”

“Thalia and around a dozen huntresses, and Grover and however many Nature spirits he can manage.” Percy answered feeling a bit like a soldier answering a drill sergeant and unsure how that dynamic had appeared so quickly.

Arthur ducked his head around the tree and the chink of chainmail scraping against bark where his shoulder was pressed against it scattered through the frigid air. He scanned the battlefield with practiced eyes and nodded decisively and turned back to them.

“Merlin and I will take the Old Religion monsters. Percy, use the Lake to battle the Titan. Annabeth keep its attention split so both of you can wear it down. When your allies arrive send them to the flanks so we can bottleneck the army.” Arthur ordered, swinging his sword from the wrist in a deadly circle.

Percy took about one second to consider that plan and the wisdom of battling a titan before he nodded his head with a sharp jerk. Do something every day that scares you and shit, right? If you knocked your head really hard and like - snorted Advil, taking on a Titan could almost be considered healthy living. Oh, who was he kidding? He was gonna die.

Like a badass though.

Annabeth also nodded her agreement.

“You have great courage.” Arthur commended and inclined his head in respect. “Merlin?” He asked.

Merlin just _looked_ at Arthur.

“That’s the spirit.” Arthur smiled sunnily, clapping him on the shoulder.

He turned back to the army and readied his sword. Percy hefted Riptide and a weird feeling of deep calm and determination came over him at the familiar weight of it in his hand and the almost comforting glint of it in the dying sunlight that stained the metal rust red.

“Charge.” Arthur said. And they charged.

It was kind of surreal charging into battle with King Arthur and Merlin. Percy was good with a sword. Annabeth was scarily good with a dagger. But those two? They were terrifying. The moment the army had seen them, the titan had ordered a straight charge and then proceeded to, calmly as you please, take the short cut and frickin _walk on water_ across the lake towards them (which is totally Percy’s gig and not cool that this shmuck could do it too). Arthur hadn’t hesitated when the entire army charged him and simply dove straight into the front line, Merlin at his back, and immediately ploughed his way through to their centre and completely destroyed the army's formation.

Percy and Annabeth dove after him, hacking and ducking and stabbing their way to the lake. But every now and then, Percy’s eye was drawn to where Arthur and Merlin stormed ahead – practically clearing the way for Percy and Annabeth to follow. When Arthur ducked, Merlin immediately turned and lobbed a fireball over his head. When Merlin was out of the way and charming the monster’s own weapons to turn on themselves - Arthur was already turning and swinging his sword in a deadly flashing arc in the newly cleared space. It was terrifying and kind of beautiful to watch that much synchronisation, that much destruction from two beings.

“Arthur!” Merlin yelled, conjuring an enormous swarm of bees that immediately smothered his opponent before moving onto their next victim. Percy swung his sword in an undercut then smashed the hilt of the sword into the dracanae’s head, dodging his way out of a flaming monster’s path as he did so.

“I’ve worked it out!” Merlin hollered. “It’s the Old Religion. I burned it inside out and the new life in the magic is reacting with the already living beings of the Old Ways!”

“You burned it inside out?!” Annabeth yelled then ducked and spun, her dagger flashing out and the monsters around her falling with a cry.

“I’m guessing that’s bad?” Percy threw out there.

“Not necessarily. It should settle down eventually, but for now they’re burning with soul fire.”

Now Percy wasn’t an expert…but that sounded pretty bad to him.

A hellhound sprung for him and Percy just had time to drag riptide from the disintegrating body of a Laistrygonian giant and upward into the belly of the beast. It exploded with a shower of golden dust over him and Percy blinked it out of his eyes with a grimace.

He turned just in time to see Arthur’s sword launch past him and into a monster attempting to lob a fireball at Merlin’s back.

“Don’t you dare lose that sword!” Merlin roared.

“I just saved your life!” Arthur objected.

“Percy!” Annabeth yelled and motioned to a path that had cleared through the monsters to the lake.

Percy immediately dove through it and breathlessly they both stumbled onto the water, Percy hardening it below their feet into something not unlike a jet ski.

Percy risked one glance back to see Merlin and Arthur fighting back to back in a whirlwind of bursting golden dust and flashing swords and magic. Every time he cast a particularly powerful spell Merlin seemed unable to not glance at Arthur, and every time he barely received a response a grin split his face and he’d plunge back into battle with a new fervour.

Percy turned back and focused on not dropping them into the freezing cold lake.

“It’s Hyperion! Titan of the East and Lord of Light!” Annabeth yelled to him over the sound of the crashing spray that Percy was making as he zoomed them across the water.

“I’ll take point, you take flank?!” Percy yelled back.

Hyperion laughed at the sight of them racing towards him and Percy felt his blood boil.

“I’ve got a better idea.” Annabeth flashed Percy a grin. “Give me a boost.”

Percy obligingly formed her a ramp and with a motion like throwing a javelin launched her into the air just as she jumped so she rocketed across the Lake and, in the most glorious move Percy had ever seen, she dropkicked Hyperion in the face. As she fell, she twisted and stabbed her small dagger into the back of his knee and used the resistance of her knife cutting through Titan skin to slow her fall. Percy immediately lifted a wave to catch her.

Snarling, Hyperion set his entire body on fire with a blinding flash that had Percy covering his eyes with a yell.

The momentary loss of concentration cost him and he felt himself dropping Annabeth into the lake with a splash. Without a second thought, he dove after her. The sounds of the battle raging above immediately cut out the moment his head plunged underwater and a muffled ringing was all he could hear, pulsing with the slapping of waves against the lake edge. Above, Hyperion still blazed with an unearthly light that turned the water a bright turquoise and made it impossible to see. But the water thrummed with energy all around him and, tuning to it in a way he never had before, he felt through all the waves, delved into their very molecules to find Annabeth. A strange tug pulled at his senses and he finally blinked the black dots from his vision quick enough to spot a dark shadow rapidly sinking about ten metres in front of him. Percy dove after her in a launch of water and in seconds, his arm was around Annabeth’s waist and their heads were breaching the surface of the water. Percy rapidly blinked the freezing cold drops out of his eyes and tried to adjust to the dim twilight light that had smothered the lake when Hyperion dimmed his fires. He shook his head and with a loud pop, the bubbles in his ears disappeared and the cacophany of battle returned – this time with the wild melodies of Grover’s pan pipes.

Annabeth spluttered beside him until she regained enough breath back to say, with a hoarse voice, “Grover made it.”

Percy grinned back.

“What’s the plan? He’s too fast for direct attacks and the light is too much of an advantage. We were blind for a minute there.”

“Keep him doused with water. It’ll stop the fires and keep the light level lower. Beyond that we’re just going to have to wait for a lucky hit.” Annabeth answered around gasps.

Percy didn’t like it, but it was the best plan they had so far.

“Hey, big guy!” He yelled and concentrated on a tidal wave and forced it to reverse. Just before impact, he jumped upward on a jet of water, sending Annabeth skidding to the side and ready to dive in at a moment’s notice.

“You _brat_!” Hyperion roared, his visor dripping wet and his body starting to light with an ominous glow like warming embers.

“I don’t think so, sunshine.” Percy muttered and sent another barrage of two enormous tidal waves. The titan was quick enough to duck one but ran face first into the other. Annabeth darted in and stabbed him in the elbow before ducking out again and racing on the waves, almost too fast for Percy to keep up with.

Hyperion struggled to his feet eyes no longer blazing but with enough murder in them to explode Percy’s head anyway.

“You will burn, Jackson!” He roared and swung his sword.

Their swords met – Percy’s reinforced with an arm of water that sprung up from the lake - and the air charged with ozone. Annabeth took the opening and stabbed again. This time she found a small chink in his armour and golden ichor spurted out the armpit hole.

“Dude, you’re leaking.” Percy commented.

The titan’s eyes flashed and Percy felt the waves of fury roll off him in a tangible force.

“Enough games,” Hyperion answered with a low growl like the rumble of a furnace. “We fight on land.”

Annabeth yelled a warning just in time for Percy to duck out of the way of a wall of force that slammed through the air and forced the waves to part for about a hundred meters across the reservoir until it slammed in a tidal wave onto the bank.

Hyperion turned on Percy with blinding speed and tried again. Percy did the sensible thing and dropped into the water so the force sailed right over his head. He popped up next to Annabeth in a column of water.

“Plans? Comments? Concerns?” He asked her breathlessly.

She opened her mouth but a shout from across the lake cut her off.

“Get him here!” Arthur shouted, voice magically magnified by Merlin.

Percy turned to Annabeth whose grey eyes calculated the shoreline. They lingered a while on Grover wildly piping nearby, entangling enemies with bushes and weeds with the rest of the Nature Spirits.

“Do it.” She decided.

Percy cricked his neck and grabbed her hand, focusing on the water and drawing strength from it. Hyperion whirled on them but couldn’t seem to land a blow. Percy pushed them forwards and Hyperion stumbled back, a look of fear passing – fleetingly- across his face before it morphed into spasming fury. The ground at his feet kept erupting in flames but it was doused just as quickly.

“Stop it!” The titan roared. “Stop that wind!”

Percy had no idea what he was talking about. He was too busy focusing on the water, on the shore, on Annabeth. Percy had firmed the water around Hyperion almost like a funnel and Annabeth was dancing along the edge jabbing and hacking and ducking, just like Percy whose sword was flashing and muscles moving quicker than they ever had in his life. It was two on one in Percy’s home turf and they were still only just managing it.

The wind picked up and Hyperion stumbled back.

“Keep that going, Percy!” Annabeth yelled.

What going? Percy thought. Then he looked down and realised he was standing in his own personal hurricane. Clouds of water vapour swirled around and seemed to buckle and spin around Annabeth but barrelled straight into Hyperion.

Percy grinned.

“That’s new.” He mumbled and slammed his hands forward in an enormous wave that had Hyperion stumbling back even further.

Time stopped having meaning. There was only water and the flash of swords. Until suddenly, like a switch had been flicked, everything crashed in on him with total clarity and he saw an opening.

“Over here!” Arthur yelled from the shoreline and the command in his voice made it easy to see the King he had once been. Percy had just enough of his wits about him to funnel the entire hurricane at the titan and force him on land with Riptide flying through on the winds, as though the hurricane were a cannon, until it embedded itself with a sickening crunch in the titan’s enormous breastplate. At the same time, Annabeth took a flying leap and landed on Hyperion’s shoulder and rammed her dagger into the side of his neck. Arthur saw the twist of Hyperion reaching for Annabeth and ducked, rolled and dived for his side, sliding his sword under the armour and straight into his chest and neatly between his ribs. Merlin, with swirling gold eyes and no finesse, chucked Excalibur right through Hyperion’s cloak and into the titan’s back.

For a second, the Titan stumbled, all four of their swords sticking out of him like a strange perversion of the Pop-up Pirate children’s game and then he burst into a shining maelstrom of golden ichor and glittering sand. Percy barely had time to raise his arm and protect his face when a furious piping from beside him burst a maple tree into life and encased the golden, writhing cloud, trapping their swords in the outside of the bark like weird branches.

Percy stared for a moment.

“Thank you for the assistance.” Arthur said respectfully to Grover who blushed and shuffled his hooves.

“We did not just kill a titan.” Percy finally choked.

“We need to go to Olympus.” Merlin said urgently and levered his sword out of the gold mottled tree with a frown.

“That’s the second time today!” Annabeth said faintly scrubbing her sopping wet hair out of her face.

“And where have you been?!” Percy yelled at Grover before immediately pulling him in for a bone crushing hug.

“Asleep?” Grover bleated out. “I think Morpheus got me on a scout mission.”

Relief cascaded through Percy.

“Contact Juniper, she’s been worried sick, man.” He answered and pulled Grover in for another hug.

“Arthur, we need to leave for Olympus now.” Merlin said urgently.

Percy turned at the seriousness of his voice. Arthur considered Merlin for a long moment before he replied in a grim tone, “One of your funny feelings?”

Merlin grit his teeth but nodded.

Arthur cast his eyes out over at the battle that was still raging around them, though most of the monsters were now in retreat at the defeat of their leader.

All of the Old Religion monsters were still smouldering, but the fire had significantly died down. For the first time Percy began to really wonder what the hell Merlin had done.

A caterwauling cry and a strike of lightening in the distance told Percy that Thalia had arrived quick enough to get involved and was busy doing her ’daughter of Zeus’ thing. He was relieved that was still working, considering that Zeus was, well, out of commission.

He stepped off the reservoir and dripped onto the grass, walking over to Annabeth and taking her hand with adrenaline shaking palms.

“If you guys are going to Olympus, we’re going with you.” He said determinedly. He expected some sort of protest.

Arthur gave him and Annabeth a long considering look then nodded his head.

“You’re good people to have in battle. I would be glad to have both of you by my side.” He said graciously.

Merlin snorted.

“Oh, for god’s sake Arthur stop thinking about knighting them and take my hand. We need to get to the Empire State building now.”

At Merlin’s clipped words all of them shook themselves out of the adrenaline crash that had begun sneaking up on them and stumbled over to where he stood, staff hanging nonchalantly in the air beside him and boots sinking into the muddy grass.

With some trepidation and a bone deep ache of _tiredness_ Percy took one last look a the impossible Maple tree by the shores of the Reservoir in Central Park, shared a commiserating look of ‘please dear god let this be the last emergency of today’ with Annabeth, and took Merlin’s hand.

Annabeth did the same beside him with a show of confidence she didn’t feel and all four of them disappeared in a swirl of wind leaving Grover by the shore.

Thalia bounded up beside him with a crackle of electricity.

“Where the hells did they go?!” She snapped out, keeping one eye on the other huntresses herding the defeated army back into the trees and into the mercy of the nature spirits.

With a mournful bleat, Grover answered, “I think to confront Kronos.”


	19. Choices.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets his godson back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya everyone! 
> 
> Wow, it's been a while! I've been so amazed to see how this has grown while I haven't been posting and honestly I've been so grateful for the continued support. It's been a crazy few months but I've finally found the time to complete a chapter and hopefully more will follow soon - I'm so excited to be getting to the end! 
> 
> As a heads up I'm going to be going back and editing a few of the earlier chapters - I'll let you know which ones when I get round to it. It's so nice to be able to see the progression the story has made and to be able to go back and change bits to suit the style and plot more now we're this far in! 
> 
> I hope you're all doing well, and as always - I own nothing and happy reading!

_BOOM_.

A muffled explosion thundered far below Mount Olympus and the troll guarding the mortal lift hefted his club in anticipation. A fragile silence settled for a breath and then -

Squeak.

The troll squinted at a nearby dracaenae in suspicion.

Squeeeak. The sound came again and the troll whirled around to glare at the lift pulley in disbelief. The pulley went quiet, and then, almost apologetically, it gave another teeth grating _squeak_.

Oh, absolutely not. He was not waiting for the bloody thing to slowly squeak up _inch by inch_. With a roar of rage, he flung one enormous hand onto the cable and started hoisting it up himself. Smoke started to sputter and sparks pinged off as the cable whizzed through.

The troll grunted in satisfaction and flung the cable at a nearby giant with a sniff to get a shift on and get the bloody lift up so he could have a nice fight, spill some demigod blood and then go back to ravaging Olympus.

After what seemed like an age, the lift settled into place and doors slowly began to open. The troll, thoroughly wound up at this point and ready to club anything that looked vaguely like it might have a pulse (and even some choicer bushes which probably didn’t but a monster can never be too careful) windmilled his club in the air and charged into the tiny elevator. The momentum was too much and almost immediately he banged his head against the wall at the back and his club ricocheted back, walloping him. Groaning, the troll looked around in confusion at the empty elevator. Tiny golden dust particles glinted back at him from the clumps on the floor.

With a bad feeling, the monster slowly turned around.

A smile under dead green eyes glinted back at him.

“Hello.” The smile greeted in a friendly voice that had the hackles raising on the back of the troll’s neck. “Have you seen a little boy here recently?”

The troll decided silence was an under-appreciated conversational tool and deserved more appreciation from him (or he would have, if his thought process hadn't gone something like: ??????......!!!!!)

“No?” The smile asked pleasantly.

Suddenly an invisible hand yanked him by the ankle and between one second and the next the entire world had turned on its head and abruptly, terrifyingly, the mortal world, far, far below had become the clouds.

Slowly, he was rotated by his ankle until he was face to face with the smile again.

“I’ll ask again and I’m sure the extra blood rush will help with jogging your memory. Have you seen a small boy around here, possibly escorted by a goddess?”

“Orders - kill everyone.” The troll finally grunted.

The boy’s eyes flashed a poisonous green and the smile turned razor edged. The hold on his ankle vanished and suddenly clouds, birds, skyscrapers were rushing past, his stomach was some two hundred yards above and the ground was nearing in an unstoppable rush growing ever nearer, nearer. Everything went dark as he burst into golden dust and a lingering scream that was ripped away by the winds to float across the spire of the Empire State building and disperse among the clouds.

High up on Olympus Harry Potter turned to the rest of the horde waiting at the entrance to Olympus. A nearby giant looked to be tangled in some cable but he was staring at Harry with such beady eyed fury, he was sure that the cable wouldn’t hold the giant back for long. Harry turned too blank eyes on the nearest humanoid creature.

“Where is my godson?”

The monsters closed ranks in a living, breathing, cage of weapons and teeth.

“Fine.” Harry said furiously and lunged.

Red and gold and searing white fireballs blossomed like roses among the bleached husks of temples that lined the sides of the road. Harry strode further onwards ignoring the inferno as he focused solely on the blue thread of the tracking spell that he had placed on Teddy.

A monster leapt at him - a straggler from the earlier, now decimated, horde – but Harry had already passed. With barely a flick of his wrist, a scream sounded behind him and a burst of golden light was quickly lost – diffused into the hazy mist of golden dust that bled the colours of Olympus together. It cast everything with a strange sense of intangibility that matched Harry’s own sense of separation. As though he was outside his body and looking down on himself destroying any building that showed even a flicker of a monster, even the shadow of a claw or the hint of a scale. The blood was rushing in his veins and power surged through him in an unstoppable tide of destruction.

He had never felt less like himself. But that was ok, the only thing that mattered was getting Teddy back. It even felt strangely right to be destroying the home of the gods. They had caused this mess and now they would be confronted with the very tangible results of their actions. He moved to the middle of the road and gazed up at an enormous archway that loomed out of the hazy mist above him.

Several women dressed alike stood at the parapets with bows in their hands and arrows pointed straight at Harry. He ignored them and focused instead on how the cloying mixture of monster dust and ash seemed to curl against some invisible barrier that stretched up and out from the gateway and disappeared into the inky blue night sky.

The part of himself that was revelling in his destruction sparked at this. He’d have to go _through_ after all.

“Declare yourself and your allegiance.” One of the women shouted from the barricade.

“Harry Potter. Not Kronos.” Harry answered, clipped tones like shards of ice. “You?” He challenged.

“We serve the one true king of Olympus.” The woman answered.

Had Teddy been kidnapped one less time than he had; had Harry one less friend out on a battlefield created by the gods, then he might have put in more effort to finding another solution outside of blasting through this archway. As it was, Harry had already levelled the lower part of the Olympus and Teddy was still out of reach. To add insult to injury he could literally see pyres of smoke rising up behind the archway which certainly indicated that some monsters had got through the barrier but instead of doing anything about it, the goddesses were trying to stop him from getting through? The ice in his veins congealed further.

_They were goddesses, weren’t they?_ his mind whispered as he eyed the archway. _They’d live. Teddy was the important one right now._

He raised his hand but at the last moment a flicker in the shadows caught his eye and he immediately turned his wand on the approaching figure.

“Peace, Harry Potter.” The man spoke and Harry froze. “A choice lies before you, the time has come to decide your path.”

Harry stared in horror at the man and unbidden a second image flickered in front of his eyes. A purple turban and flickering black flames and gleaming red eyes reflected in a dusty old mirror invaded his mind for a moment and Harry took an involuntary step back.

Quirrel. His first kill. A choice that hadn’t really been a choice but had kept him up countless nights wondering and wondering if he could have done something different.

And here was another man with two faces, and a choice of life and death again.

He needed to save Teddy. If he was honest, almost more than he had needed to stop Voldemort. But abruptly he realised that this time he could make the choice and he refused to make the same mistake again.

Squashing every instinct that screamed at him to hurl his largest fireball at the gate, goddesses and all, he lowered his wand. Guilt trickled through him sticky and heavy in his gut but his fury and need to get Teddy burned against it and dulled its edges.

There was silence for a moment, just the goddesses watching warily from the parapet and Harry battling with himself at how close he had come to killing senselessly in his quest for Teddy.

“Good choice.” The two-faced man broke it, this time, Harry was relieved to see, with the mouth facing him. “Come with me.” Before Harry could protest, the man lunged out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him through a square in the wall that hadn’t been there a second ago.

Harry staggered out confused and furious on the other side of the archway. It was noticeably colder and breathing came easier with the loss of monster dust swirling in the air.

“You would have let me destroy the gate with those goddesses on it.” Harry realised, snatching his arm away from the god. A flash of rage at Janus’s actions reared up in his gut – much more familiar to him than the awful calm ice that had infused him on his rampage before. It was almost a relief to feel it.

Janus shrugged, not even bothering to deny it.

“Why did you pretend there was a choice when you had the solution?” Harry growled, advancing suddenly and backing Janus into the wall.

“Because the choice was important.” Janus answered.

Harry stared in wide eyed fury at this god.

_That was the sort of bullshit answer Dumbledore would have given,_ Harry thought almost numbly. Abruptly everything bled away to simple panicky fear. The past few days jumbled around in his mind all shoving their horrors to the front. _He was really going through it all again wasn’t he? First it was visions and now it two faced men and shitty manipulations_. _What had he done? Why had he involved Teddy and himself in this world and its problems?_ As before the image of Percy, Silena and the other campers rose in his mind’s eye but he found it no longer held the power it had before.

The blue tracking spell shimmered in his periphery and he latched onto it mentally. Pushing Janus away in disgust, he resumed marching down the road and blasting monsters out of the way, no longer interested in any that weren’t immediately attacking him and only using the barest minimum of force to subdue them. His mind was a whirl. He didn’t know what to do. First, he had to get to Teddy but after that – after that…he wasn’t sure.

“What are you doing?” Janus hissed from where he was hovering at Harry’s elbow occasionally sending monsters through magically conjured doorways that always lead to places far enough away to become someone else’s problem. “What are you _doing_?”

“Getting my godson back.” Harry answered through gritted teeth, eyes flicking over every shadowy temple and balustrade for a flicker of colour changing hair.

“Not that! What are you deciding?” Janus demanded and made a grab for Harry’s arm.

Harry shook him off and continued forward, not deigning to turn and explain to this shit stain exactly fucking _why_ his stupid ‘choice’ set up had been the last straw in an already shitty bundle and now Harry had a headache and nothing made sense.

He and Janus pulled to a sharp stop as through the inky darkness an enormous shadow came into view. Laid across their path and with scales shining dully in the lamplight, a tail twitched and an enormous head came up to sniff the air several metres down the street. Smoke unfurled in twin spirals from its snout.

“Fuck.” Harry said, feelingly. The drakon’s ear twitched at the noise. As it turned its head slightly, its great glistening eye fell upon the temple directly next to it and gained a sense of purpose. The slitted pupil narrowed and the pressure in the atmosphere built and the air around the drakon got hotter and hotter. Harry took this all in with a sense of unreality as his eyes tracked the blue trail of the tracking spell straight into the temple. Teddy was in there, he realised numbly. _There was a drakon aiming for Teddy._

“No!” He screamed and rushed the thing, with no plan in mind further than distraction.

He took a flying leap and scrabbled up the drakon’s enormous tail, his feet slipping on the smooth scales. He vaulted over the spine ridge as the tail whipped dangerously around making him scramble for a hand hold as it reared up suddenly and the whole world tilted sideways.

With a breathless yell and a punch of unrestrained power, Harry blasted a hole in the leathery skin of the drakon’s wing billowing with wind underneath him. The beast let out a roar of rage and Harry’s hands tightened further in the scales as it writhed and pitched. With a grunt and an enormous heave, he pulled himself over the backbone and punched another bolt of pure, unrefined power in the other wingspan, effectively grounding the beast. The last thing he needed was for it to line up long distant range flame throwing. At least like this it was confined by the rows of towering temples.

With a wild and half formed idea of taking out the eyes next, Harry scrambled forward, inching his way along the whipping neck. He somehow made it to the head frill without injury and teetering precariously on the smooth scales, he lined the Elder wand up to the bulbous eye that was whirling around in search of its attacker.

“Sorry, buddy.” Harry said softly and sent an overpowered piercing curse bolstered by godly power into the thing’s eye. After his rampage from before, Harry was exhausted and the thought more violence was draining to his very core. Still, the spell dripped from his wand in a sickly jet and punctured the eye with a disgusting spray of blood matter. The moment it impacted, the drakon seized up and a rumble started that vibrated his stomach and seemed to echo at a subatomic level and Harry noticed the air sparking right in front of the drakon’s mouth

His eyes widened in panic as he suddenly realised what was about to happen. He vaulted over the snout and flung himself stupidly into the gaping maw that was still opened in a rumbling scream. With a quiet prayer and gritted teeth, Harry aimed his wand for the furthest, deepest reach of the drakon’s throat.

“Sectumsempra.” He shouted and immediately turned and fled, feet finding purchase in sinew and fractured fang stumps as he clawed his way to freedom from the rapidly closing mouth.

The slashes that erupted from his wand were almost visceral and Harry felt the whistling backlash of wind rocket past him as he tumbled out of the drakon’s mouth, hand slipping and burning on the burst and hissing venom sacks as he slid down the snout tip, narrowly avoiding the gushing of blood that flooded from the beast’s throat. The rumble cut off to a choked gurgle as Harry’s curse reached further inside and he stared in wide eyed shock as a strange glow began behind the scales right at the base of its neck.

“Get out the way!” Janus screamed from somewhere behind him, “You hit the firebox! Get away!”

Harry barely had time to clamber behind some cracked marble steps, when all the air from around him rushed forwards to the drakon’s throat in a twisting vacuum pulling monster dust and debris with it.

For a single, echoing second, nothing happened. And then the whole thing exploded and Harry braced an arm over his face as a tsunami of boiling air and marble and bone shrapnel barrelled out and over. The ground under the drakon fractured and began disintegrating from the blast of air and, with a skull shaking roar, the drakon fell and tumbled, its twisted wings flapping uselessly below the quickly widening hole in the centre of the road of Olympus.

Harry spared only enough time for the roars to become echoes, before he turned to the temple behind him.

“Teddy.” He coughed out over the ash, brushing his venom and blood stains hands on his trousers and ignoring Janus’s wide eyed stare as he pushed past him to stumble up to the temple doors.

He pushed at them weakly with his arms, still hacking from the dust and smoke but the doors stayed firmly shut.

“Alohamora.” He snarled, shakily pointing the deathstick at the enormous lock and with an extra shove of willpower the doors sprung upon with a bang.

For a second he took in the scene before him. The chill in the air. The snow sliding off the titan’s nose. The unmistakable evidence of Weasley products.

His gaze zeroed in on the rafters where an untidy mop of yellow hair perched and wobbled, and he finally felt something loosen within him. The exhaustion of storming an entire mountain, an army and a drakon finally caught up with him and he let loose a sigh that sagged his shoulders and tugged at his chest in a painful way. He turned back to the titan.

“Teddy, look away.” He said softly.

The titan began to sneer. Harry didn’t even give it the chance to fully unfurl on his face before his first curse was flying.

The battle was short, fast and ferocious. The moment it became clear that the titan’s greatest advantage was his preternatural knowledge of exactly what Harry was going to do next, Harry strove to be as unpredictable as possible, picking spells at random and flinging them at the being in the first way he though to weaponize them.

He had Luna to thank for how quickly most of those creative ways came to mind, he supposed. When they got out of this he was going to buy her so many butterbeers (her cork collection was going strong).

‘Anapneo’, stole the Titan’s breath and halted his attack long enough for Harry’s follow up horn-tongue hex to find its mark. The floor was covered in water from a quick ‘augementi’ that immediately froze from the pre-deployed ice swamp (and weren’t Harry and Teddy and certain Weasley’s going to have a chat about _that_ ). Gravity reversal was followed by ‘accio’, followed by a nasty knee-reversal spell then a stickfast hex in a sloppy chain that finally bought Harry the opportunity for a risky standard auror chain: ‘petrificus totalus, incarcerous, stupefy’.

Harry honestly hadn’t expected the stupefy to work. So when the Titan fell back, trussed and bound with zip ties – Harry’s personal favourite spell mod to that chain – Harry had to catch himself from firing the next dozen spells that came to mind. He banished the swamp to form a path and carefully picked his way over to the titan. The stupefy may have been reinforced by godly power but Prometheus was a titan and already stirring by the time Harry reached him.

“Are there others?” He asked quietly when the titan blinked his eyes open dazedly.

Prometheus glared at Harry but said nothing.

“Are there others?” Harry asked more insistently his wand coming to rest between Prometheus’ eyes. The titan ignored it and his glare bored into Harry’s own.

Finally, just as the tip of Harry’s wand was starting to glow ominously, Prometheus answered.

“Yes.”

Harry took in the cautious stare, the way his eyes very resolutely did not flick to the exit, the clenched jaw.

“Liar.” He decided and stunned the titan once more.

“Is it safe now?” A tiny voice came from the rafters.

Finally, Harry felt like he could breathe again.

“You’re safe. Everything’s ok. Come here, Ted.” He choked out

There was a shuffling sound, what sounded like a pritt stick cap popping off and then little handprints under a mop of canary yellow hair made their way down a nearby pillar. Harry stared in bewilderment for a moment until realisation slammed into him like a sledgehammer and he felt every bone within him lock into place with a tenseness that was physically painful.

“Teddy is that you?” He asked quietly, hoping that he was wrong.

The handprints disappeared from the pillar and there was a soft thump as Teddy jumped down and the yellow mop of hair ran up to Harry. Harry ran to catch him and crushed him into a hug on the ice covered floor.

“Teddy. It’s you, you’re ok. You’re ok. You did so well. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. You’re ok.”

Harry felt his godson bury his head in the crook of Harry’s shoulder and he clutched tighter as trembles shook them both.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok.” Harry soothed as he became aware that Teddy was crying into his shoulder. He wanted to wipe the tears away, but he didn’t want to miss and poke Teddy in the eye.

“Finite.” He muttered. Nothing happened. “Finite Incantatum.” He tried again, focusing harder. A small outline started to appear, like ripples in the air, but Teddy stayed resolutely invisible.

“Teddy, who did this to you? Why can't I see you?”

“M-Miss He-estia.” Teddy sniffled out. “But it was really cool and handy, I don’t mind.”

“Finite.” Harry tried again, this time forcing far more power through his hands. The ice melted around their feet and Teddy finally came into focus, though he still seemed slightly transparent. It did little to ease Harry’s fear. Translucent like this, Teddy bore an uncanny resemblance to the Hogwart’s ghosts. Fighting past the initial panic and fissure through his heart this sight caused, Harry tried to focus on his godson’s face. The soot smudges all over Teddy’s face and the bruises forming on his arms gave Harry his next heart attack and somewhere in his mind he began seriously considering getting life insurance to cover that.

“What happened?” He asked in alarm, wand already tracing cleaning and healing spells.

Teddy looked confused for a moment and then he smiled brightly.

“Oh, flour is really easy to blow up.” He said, almost proudly. “Miss Hestia had a lot in her kitchen.”

Harry’s third heart attack in less than a minute really shouldn't have come as the shock it was. Teddy smiled wobbily and Harry fussed over him but a scream from behind him had them both whipping round in alarm.

“Oh. There might be more monsters. Miss Hestia didn’t sound too happy before.” Teddy said thoughtfully.

The warmth that had bloomed in Harry at seeing his godson safe and in his arms again cooled to a furious ice – far worse than the quiet rage and panic that had fuelled his precious rampage.

“Teddy, stay close to me, okay?” Harry said hefting his godson into his arms. “Don’t worry, this will be the last time.”

“The last time?” Teddy echoed curiously.

Harry nodded and started for the door.

“We’re done with battles Ted.”

“Oh. We won?” Teddy asked hopefully and Harry’s heart broke a bit at the optimism of the young boy.

“No. But we’re done.” Harry answered softly, blasting through several doors and a handful of random monsters, one of whom was glowing with the light of a starting fire. Harry eyed that curiously before blasting it against the wall where it disappeared in a shower of gold.

“Ok…” Teddy finally answered, a bit hesitantly.

At last, they came to a stop outside a magical barrier, not unlike the one Harry had seen at the lower-level archway. Almost as though the thought had summoned him, the shadows next to Harry congealed and convalesced until Janus was standing there. Teddy made a small noise of shock at the sudden appearance and clung to Harry tighter.

“You.” Teddy said, almost accusingly from the safety of Harry’s shadow.

Harry looked down at his godson in shock.

“You’ve met?” He asked Teddy, ignoring Janus completely.

“He was in the alley. I don’t think Miss Hestia liked him very much.” Teddy answered, glaring at Janus.

“Is that so.” Harry said after a while, another spike of fury adding to the growing determination in Harry’s mind for his course of action. He hitched Teddy higher in his arms and turned back to the doorway. “I don’t suppose you feel like opening this, _God of Doorways_?” He asked through gritted teeth.

Janus considered him for a moment and with a wary look in his eyes, oddly similar to Prometheus’s when he had decided to lie, he stretched his hand to the side and a glowing doorway folded out from under his fingertips.

Harry didn’t thank him as he walked through and Janus looked even more unsure and the frown lines in both his foreheads deepened.

The moment they stepped through there was a high-pitched shout and a flaming urn hurtled at them from somewhere in the corner.

Harry snarled and banished it to the side but pans and heated spatulas and other flaming cooking equipment quickly followed the first in a flurry.

Harry banished them all with jerky swipes of his hand and continued advancing into the room. To the side Janus clicked his fingers and a soft blue light filled the room, illuminating Hestia in the corner and Harry in the centre, Teddy clinging to him like a limpet. Baking trays and measuring jugs littered the floor, all smouldering and cracked where Harry had repelled them.

Hestia’s eyes widened as the light finally allowed her to recognise them and she glanced uncertainly between them. She finally settled on Harry’s furious face. She didn’t lower her pan.

Harry’s eye’s narrowed behind their glasses at the action.

“Last Olympian.” He greeted. Hestia's hand twitched as though to reach for a second pan behind her. This appeared to be the final straw for Harry. “You dare.” He hissed. “You dare threaten me after all that you’ve done?”

Hestia looked uncertainly at Janus, but whatever she saw there did not seem to reassure as she gripped her pan tighter, wincing as the vow on her hand flared a sickly neon gold that visibly pulsed with her heartbeat.

“I trusted you to protect him.” Harry said, continuing his advance into the room. Teddy ripped his gaze away from where he was staring at Hestia’s flaring hand in morbid fascination and turned wide eyes on his godfather and the fury shaking his voice and giving it an unintentional edge of malicious magic. “I trusted you and you not only abandoned him while you hid behind this barrier, but you turned him invisible.”

“I-“ Hestia started, then fell silent with a yelp as her hand flared again, a heat shimmer radiating from it that finally forced her to drop her pan.

“You promised.” Harry said furiously, aura flaring out behind him and creeping up the walls so the room seemed to shrink and shrink.

Teddy looked from his godfather’s furious face, to Janus whose head was whipping between them like he was watching a tennis match, to Miss Hestia, still cowering in her corner. He didn’t like the tension in the room. He didn’t like that Harry was so angry and Hestia so scared. He hadn’t minded being invisible much – he had been able to get so many more monsters!

“Daddy, I didn’t mind.” Teddy spoke up. “Don’t-“ He stopped, unsure what he wanted to say. “You’re scaring Miss Hestia.” He finally settled on.

“I’m sorry, Teddy.” Harry said softly. “She put you in danger though. Anything could have happened with no one able to see you.”

“But I’m fine!” Teddy answered crossly, flagrantly ignoring the memory of the big titan’s scary face and the terror he’d felt as he cowered in the rafters with empty pockets and the way he still shook a little bit.

Harry smiled a little as he looked at Teddy but it looked pained and brittle around the edges.

“I did my duty. I tried my best. You should remember that _you_ gave him to _me_ , godling.” Hestia called from the corner, drawing herself up and stepping away from the wall.

Harry’s face froze from the soft look he had been bestowing Teddy and his eyes turned flinty as he twisted slowly to look at her.

“The agreement was that you would do your best in this battle and I would protect your godson to the best of my ability. I upheld my part of the bargain, but I cannot help but notice that you are not on the battlefield.” She finished imperiously.

“You had a titan in your temple.” Harry stated slowly, as though he was speaking to a particularly dim slug. “You would be _dead_ if I had not intervened. Teddy would be _dead_. Don’t you _dare_ -“ He cut himself off, breath heaving. His voice had slowly grown to a shout and he stared at the goddess in front of him, whose confidence appeared to be wavering once more in the face of his animosity.

Harry glanced at Teddy again, and Teddy couldn’t read the expression on his face. He didn’t understand what was going on. Harry seemed upset though, so he settled for a hesitant smile, to show him that he at least was ok.

Harry looked pained for a moment and then his face entirely shut off. Abruptly he turned on his heel and strode for the door. Teddy made a noise of confusion at the sudden movement and clung to his godfather’s neck a little tighter.

“It’s ok, Ted. Don’t worry. We’re leaving.” Harry soothed.

Janus looked truly alarmed at that statement and made to close the door he had created in the wall while Hestia shouted, a tinge of desperation in her voice that Teddy didn’t understand, “Hermes is in trouble! He is in the throne room with Kronos, the final battle is upon us.”

Harry kept walking and didn’t answer even though the exit had disappeared.

“You must go to his aid or Olympus will fall!” Hestia tried again.

Teddy was increasingly confused why the gods looked so desperate and why Harry was ignoring them. Of course, they were going to help, weren’t they?

“I don’t care.” Harry said quietly from above him and his hand carefully stretched out to feel the barrier in front of them.

“You must!”

“Daddy, are we not going to help Percy and Nico?” Teddy asked in bewilderment.

A muscle jumped in Harry’s jaw and he didn’t look away from the barrier.

“No.” He finally ground out.

“Daddy!” Teddy said furiously as Janus let out a shout in some language Teddy didn’t understand behind him.

“Daddy, we have to help.” Teddy tried again, squirming in Harry’s arms to be put down.

“No. We don’t.” Harry answered, holding him tighter. He finally turned to look at Teddy again. “You’ve been put in far too much danger this whole time. We never should have got involved. I’m taking you, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna and we’re getting out of here. The gods can clean up after themselves, it’s their mess anyway.”

“No!” Teddy replied and beat his fist into Harry’s shoulder.

“And what about my vow?” Hestia shouted from behind them.

“Keep it.” Harry said dismissively.

“She is a goddess.” Janus burst in furiously as Hestia shouted over him.

“You cannot leave it – it binds me to you – how dare you!” Hestia berated furiously, marching towards them, her robe flickering firelight at the hem.

Harry swung them both round to face Hestia, and Teddy didn’t like the blank look in his normally laughing green eyes.

“You should have kept your promise then.” Harry hissed and yanked with his hand on the barrier, so it fell away in a mist of gossamer magic.

“Daddy-” Teddy tried.

“Teddy, please don’t fight me on this, it’s to keep you safe." Harry pleaded miserably as they strode through the ruins of the temple. "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through.” 

“Daddy we can’t leave the others.”

“Yes, we can.” Harry answered and Teddy looked at him in shock.

They burst out of the temple and Teddy was momentarily distracted by the enormous gaping hole in the middle of the street that stretched away to clouds and inky nothingness beneath.

Harry rushed past it without giving it even a glance. Teddy began trying desperately to get his godfather’s attention again to change his mind. But Harry kept onwards, stumbling over massive chunks of smoking marble and feverishly pacing down the street, flinching at, but ignoring, the shouts and screams in the distance interspersed with monster howls that threaded the night sky.

Eventually, they came to a crossroads and Teddy’s eyes were stinging at his godfather ignoring him like this. He was so tired and he just wanted everyone to be safe and he didn’t like Harry like this.

“Is this your choice?” Janus asked suddenly from the shadows making Teddy jump.

“Yes.” Harry responded tersely, not stopping as Janus fell into step with them.

“You are abandoning your friends, this is not the behaviour that allowed you ascension to godhood.” Janus hissed out.

Harry whirled on him.

“That had nothing to do with worthiness or morality or anything. No one _allowed_ me anything.” Harry bit out and Teddy cringed into Harry’s shoulder at the vitriol in his voice. “My _ascension_ ,” Harry sneered, “was a quirk, a freak of nature and it has given us nothing but trouble. I should have pulled Teddy out of this a long time ago.”

Janus looked hard at Harry and Harry stared right back. Fury and disappointment lay thick in the air between them.

Harry made a small noise of disgust and turned on his heel again to continue storming down the street.

This time, Janus let them go.


End file.
